LIBRARY    OF 

EDS.  PIPER,  H.D. 

No. 


(Jfoorp  SMtUte  Coofce. 


GEORGE  ELIOT:  A  Critical  Study  of  her  Life, 
Writings,  and  Philosophy.  With  Portrait,  izmo, 

$2.00. 

RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON  :  His  Life,  Writings, 
and  Philosophy.  With  Portrait,  izmo,  $2.00. 

POETS  AND  PROBLEMS.  (Tennyson,  Ruskin, 
Browning.)  i2mo,  $2.00. 

A  GUIDE-BOOK  TO  THE  POETIC  AND  DRA- 
MATIC WORKS  OF  ROBERT  BROWNING. 
Crown  8vo,  $2.00. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY, 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


A   GUIDE-BOOK  TO  THE   POETIC 

AND   DRAMATIC   WORKS    OF 

ROBERT   BROWNING 


BY 


GEORGE   WILLIS    COOKE 

AUTHOR  OF  "POETS  AND  PROBLEMS,"  "RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON:  HIS  LIFE 
WRITINGS  AND  PHILOSOPHY,"  ETC. 


Best  bard,  because  the  wisest.  —  FOB,  in  IsraftL 


BOSTON   AND   NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 

(<Cf;c  fitoerpibe  Press,  Cambcib0e 

1896 


Copyright,  1891, 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Uoughtou  &  Co. 


PREFACE. 


THIS  book  has  been  prepared  on  the  theory  that  a  poet  is 
his  own  best  interpreter.  No  attempt  has  been  made  to 
expound  Browning ;  that  has  been  well  done  by  Mrs.  Orr, 
Professor  Alexander,  Mr.  Symons,  Mr.  Nettleship,  Mr. 
Fotheringham,  and  others.  The  attempt  here  made  is  of 
quite  another  kind,  and  one  claiming  less  of  merit  and  origi- 
nality. Browning's  works  are  so  voluminous  that  an  anno- 
tated edition  is  impracticable  at  present,  but  an  effort  has 
been  made  in  this  volume  to  supply  that  want  in  part.  The 
introductions  and  notes  which  such  an  edition  would  provide 
are  here  given  in  a  volume  by  themselves,  and  under  the 
titles  of  the  poems  arranged  alphabetically. 

Browning's  method  being  dramatic,  and  his  special  liter- 
ary form  the  monologue,  he  rarely  gives  any  very  definite 
clue  to  the  situations  of  his  characters.  The  obscurity  of 
many  of  his  poems  grows  wholly  out  of  the  fact  that  they 
are  filled  with  allusions  which  are  not  easily  understood. 
He  uses  historic  situations,  biographical  incidents,  and  artis- 
tic details  without  furnishing  a  sufficiently  clear  and  full 
interpretation  of  them.  He  assumes  that  the  reader  is  in 
possession  of  all  needed  information  concerning  his  charac- 
ters, when  it  is  often  difficult  to  understand  who  is  speaking, 
to  what  time  or  place  he  belongs,  and  what  are  the  circum- 
stances under  which  he  speaks.  Given  these,  it  is  quite  pos- 
sible to  follow  Browning's  meanings,  and  to  read  him  with 
pleasure. 

This  book  has  not  been  prepared  for  those  who  think 


iv  Preface. 

Browning  needs  no  helps  in  making  his  meanings  clear  to  his 
readers,  but  for  those  who  have  found  it  difficult  to  read 
him,  and  for  those  who  have  not  a  library  at  hand  for  the 
explanation  of  his  allusions.  In  its  preparation  the  work  of 
others  has  been  drawn  upon  freely.  The  Papers  of  the 
London  Browning  Society  have  been  the  chief  source  of  in- 
formation. The  great  amount  of  interesting  matter  con- 
tained in  the  twelve  numbers  now  issued  of  those  Papers 
has  been  carefully  studied  ;  but  it  is  in  a  form  very  incon- 
venient for  reference.  In  this  volume  much  of  it  will  be 
found  under  the  titles  of  the  poems  to  which  it  refers.  Mrs. 
Orr's  valuable  Handbook  to  Robert  Browning's  Works  has 
been  used  to  a  considerable  extent,  because  it  contains  much 
information  supplied  directly  by  Browning  for  the  elucida- 
tion of  his  poems.  In  every  instance  where  such  informa- 
tion was  necessary  to  the  purpose  of  the  present  volume  it 
has  been  used,  credit  being  given  wherever  possible.  An- 
other valuable  source  of  information  has  been  the  magazine 
called  Poet-Lore,  which  has  given  special  attention  to  the 
interpretation  of  Browning's  poems,  and  to  awaking  an  in- 
terest in  his  poetry.  For  the  aid  of  the  student  of  Brown- 
ing who  may  wish  to  consult  the  books  and  essays  referred 
to  throughout  this  volume,  and  also  the  best  things  written 
of  the  poet,  there  have  been  added  to  this  preface  a  number 
of  brief  reference  lists.  Very  much  not  contained  in  any  of 
the  books  devoted  to  Browning  and  his  poetry  will  be  found 
in  these  pages,  arranged  systematically  and  in  a  form  con- 
venient for  reference.  The  book  will  be  found  to  contain 
the  following  kinds  of  information  about  Browning  and  his 
works :  — 

1.  So  far  as  known,  the  date,  place,  and  circumstances  of 
the  writing  of  each  poem  are  given. 

2.  The  date  of  the  publication  of  each  poem,  an  account 
of  subsequent  changes  and  editions,  and  such  other  biblio- 
graphical details  as  may  be  of  interest. 


Preface.  v 

3.  When  a  poem  is  based  on  any  particular  book  or  other 
writing,  that  special  work  has  been  drawn  upon  for  its  ex- 
planation, and  as  far  as  possible  the  exact  words  of  such 
book  have  been  given.     When  a  poem  is  based  on  some 
historical  or  biographical  incident,  it  has  been  explained  in 
such  fullness  as  seemed  necessary  for  an  understanding  of 
the  poem. 

4.  Browning's  own  explanations  of  his  poems  have  been 
given  in  every  instance  where  they  were  known  to  exist. 
His  interpretations  of  whole  poems  or  of  special  allusions 
are  numerous  and  often  of  much  importance.     His  letters 
and  notes  in  explanation  of  his  method  of  spelling  Greek 
words,  his  use  of  certain  grammatical  forms,  etc.,  have  been 
given  in  full. 

5.  Many  of  the  allusions  are  explained,  especially  those 
of  an  historical,  biographical,  and  artistic  nature.     No  at- 
tempt, however,  has  been  made  to  explain  all  of  the  poet's 
allusions ;  and  there  will  be  found  plenty  of  work  in  this 
direction   for  any  Browning  society  that  is  not  unusually 
active  and  zealous. 

6.  About  fifteen  poems  of  minor  importance  written  by 
Browning,  but  not  included  in  his  published  volumes,  are 
reprinted  here,  with  accounts  of  the  circumstances  of  their 
writing  and  publication.     They  are  included  because  they 
illustrate  some  of  his  poetical  characteristics  and  some  of 
his  personal  traits. 

7.  Reference  is  made  under  each  title  to  such  books  as 
will  be  found  most  helpful  in  the  interpretation  of  the  poem 
or  that  bear  upon  its  general  subject. 

8.  A  list  is  given  of  the  best  articles  and  books  which 
have  been  published  on  each  poem.     The  attempt  has  been 
made  to  include  only  such  articles  and  books  as  are  of  real 
value,  and  to  make  the    references  accurate  in  every  in- 
stance ;  but  no  infallibility  is  claimed.     Owing  to  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  Orr,  in  her  Handbook,  has  provided  an  interpre- 


vi  Preface. 

tation  for  all  the  poems,  it  has  not  been  thought  necessary 
to  refer  to  that  work  under  each  poem.  As  Symons's  Intro- 
duction to  the  Study  of  Browning  and  Fotheringham's 
Studies  in  the  Poetry  of  Robert  Browning  give  interpre- 
tations of  a  large  proportion  of  the  poems,  they  have  not 
been  mentioned.  Although  each  of  these  books  gives  some- 
thing in  the  way  of  interpretation  on  nearly  every  poem 
they  will  not  be  found  equally  helpful  at  all  times,  nor  will 
their  comments  afford  in  all  instances  the  best  word  that  has 
been  said  on  the  poems. 

9.  Special   editions,  volumes    of   selections,  illustrations, 
poems  set  to  music,  have  been  mentioned  under  individual 
poems  or  in  special  articles. 

10.  Each   of    the    principal    characters   in    Browning's 
poems  is  noted  in  its  alphabetical  order,  and  a  brief  de- 
scription given,  such  as  will  serve  to  identify  its  nature  and 
the  poem  where  it  may  be  found. 

11.  Significant  criticisms  by  leaders  of  literary  opinion 
have  been  given  when  they  were  of  special  value. 

12.  In  the  case  of  the  dramas  accounts  are  given  of  their 
stage  presentation. 

13.  The  original  prefaces  are  reprinted  in  all  instances 
where  they  are  not  now  printed  with  the  poems.     They  are 
in  several  instances  of  much  value  in  the  presentation  of 
Browning's  poetical  theories,  or  on  account  of  their  personal 
statements. 

14.  All  extended  and  important  changes  in  the  poems 
since   their  first   publication   have    been   mentioned.     The 
Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works  gives  the  first  edi- 
tion in  full  of  Pauline,  as  well  as  the  poem  in  its  latest 
revised  form.     In  this  book  the  changes  made  in  Paracel- 
sus and  Sordello  between  the  first  and  the  latest  editions 
have  been  indicated  in  parallel  columns.     For  many  of  the 
shorter  poems  the  changes  have  been  indicated. 

In  this  book  the  first  word  in  each  title  not  an  article  has 


Preface.  vii 

been  taken  as  the  one  determining  its  alphabetic  position,  in 
this  following  for  the  most  part  the  Index  to  the  Riverside 
edition  of  1889. 

A  few  annotations  omitted  by  accident  from  their  proper 
place,  and  one  or  two  received  too  late  for  insertion,  have 
been  included  in  an  appendix. 

The  page  references  throughout  this  work  are  to  the 
Riverside  edition  of  1889,  which  is  in  six  volumes,  the 
present  volume  being  uniform  therewith.  The  Riverside 
edition  of  1888  does  not  contain  Browning's  latest  revisions. 

The  great  number  of  details  contained  in  this  volume 
make  it  more  than  probable  that  errors  will  appear  in  it. 
Also  it  is  probable  that  needed  information  for  the  full  ex- 
planation of  some  of  the  poems  has  been  omitted,  which 
more  time  and  opportunity  might  have  supplied.  Any  in- 
formation that  will  insure  greater  accuracy  and  helpfulness 
to  a  second  edition  will  be  thankfully  received. 

G.  W.  C. 

DEDHAM,  MASS. 


THE  BEST  THINGS  SAID  OF  BROWNING. 


ONLY  the  best  books  and  magazine  articles  about  Brown- 
ing are  mentioned  in  the  following  lists.  No  attempt  has 
been  made  to  compile  a  complete  bibliography,  but  rather 
to  give  a  helpful  guide  in  finding  what  is  really  valuable. 
Dr.  Furnivall's  Bibliography  is  very  complete,  but  not  very 
convenient  for  ready  consultation.  What  it  lacks  in  con- 
ciseness and  adaptability  for  use  is  made  up  in  the  appendix 
to  Sharp's  Life.  The  reader  might  be  referred  at  once  to 
the  latter  work  were  it  not  that  it  puts  the  good  and  the 
bad  together,  and  gives  little  hint  of  what  will  be  found  of 
value  or  what  is  best  worth  consulting.  The  names  of 
authors  in  the  following  lists  guarantee  merit ;  and  in  the 
case  of  writers  not  well  known  as  critics  a  careful  examina- 
tion has  shown  the  worth  of  what  is  cited. 

I.  BIOGRAPHICAL  BOOKS. 

Life  of  Robert  Browning.  William  Sharp.  London :  Walter  Scott. 
New  York :  A.  Lovell  &  Co.  1890. 

Robert  Browning :  Chief  Poet  of  the  Age.  William  G.  Kingsland. 
London  :  J.  W.  Jarvis  &  Son.  1890. 

Same,  revised  and  enlarged.     London :  J.  W.  Jarvis  &  Son.     1891. 

Same,  revised  and  enlarged.  Philadelphia :  Poet-Lore  Publishing 
Co.  1891. 

Robert  Browning :  Personalia.  Edmund  Gosse.  [The  Century  arti- 
cle of  1881,  with  a  paper  published  after  the  death  of  the  poet.} 
Boston :  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.  1890. 

Famous  Women.  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning.  John  H.  Ingram. 
Boston:  Robert  Brothers.  1888. 

Letters  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning  addressed  to  Richard  Hen- 
gist  Home.  With  a  Preface  and  Memoir  by  Richard  Henry  Stod- 
dard.  New  York :  James  Millar.  1877. 

Last  Poems  of  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning.  With  a  Memoir  by 
Theodore  Tilton.  New  York  :  James  Millar.  1862. 

The  Living  Authors  of  England.  Thomas  Powell.  New  York : 
Appleton  &  Co.  1849. 

A  New  Spirit  of  the  Age.     R.  H.  Home.     London,  1844. 

Six  Months  in  Italy.     George  Stillman  Hillard.     Boston,  1853. 


x  The  Best  Things  said  of  Browning. 

French  and  Italian  Note-books.  Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  Boston. 
1871. 

Life  of  Landor.     John  Forster.     London,  1869. 

Macready's  Reminiscences  and  Letters.     London,  1875. 

Literary  Life.  "The  Brownings."  W.  Shepard.  New  York: 
Putnams.  1882. 

In  Memoriam :  Memorial  to  Robert  Browning,  King's  Chapel, 
January  28,  1890,  by  Browning  Society  of  Boston.  Boston :  Brown- 
ing Society.  1890. 

London  Letters.     G.  W.  Smalley.    New  York,  1891. 

II.  BIOGRAPHICAL  MAGAZINE  ARTICLES. 

Harper's  Magazine.     George  W.  Curtis.     23  :  555. 

The  Century  Magazine.  "  The  Early  Writings  of  Robert  Brown- 
ing." Edmund  Gosse.  December,  1881.  23  :  189. 

Harper's  Magazine.     George  W.  Curtis.     January,  1890.     80 :  637. 

Magazine  of  Art.  "  Portraits  of  Robert  Browning."  W.  M.  Ros- 
setti.  13  : 181,  246,  261. 

Poet-Lore.     Letters  by  Browning.     2  :  101. 

Poet-Lore.  Personal  Recollections  of  Browning.  William  G. 
Kingsland.  2  :  130. 

New  Review.     Edmund  Gosse.     January,  1890.     1  :  91. 

The  Manhattan.  "The  Brownings."  K.  M.  Rowland.  June, 
1884. 

The  Century.  "A  Day  with  the  Brownings  at  Pratolino."  Mrs. 
E.  C.  Kinney.  1  :  185. 

The  Argosy.     E.  F.  Bridell-Fox.     February,  1890. 

HI.   BOOKS  OF  INTERPRETATION  AND  CRITICISM. 

Essays  on  Robert  Browning's  Poetry.  John  T.  Nettleship.  Lon- 
don, 1868. 

Sordello :  A  Story  from  Robert  Browning.  Frederic  May  Holland. 
New  York:  Putnams.  1881. 

Stories  from  Robert  Browning.  Frederic  May  Holland ;  with  Intro- 
duction by  Mrs.  Sutherland  Orr.  London :  G.  Bell  &  Sons.  1882. 

A  Bibliography  of  Robert  Browning  from  1833  to  1881.  Compiled 
by  Frederick  J.  Furnivall.  London:  The  Browning  Society,  1881. 

Same,  enlarged,  including  Shelley  essay.     1882. 

An  Introduction  to  Robert  Browning.  A  Criticism  of  the  Purpose 
and  Method  of  his  Earlier  Works.  Bancroft  Cooke.  London,  1883. 

Strafford  :  A  Tragedy.  With  Notes  and  Preface  by  E.  H.  Hickey, 
and  Introduction  by  S.  R.  Gardiner.  London :  G.  Bell  &  Sons.  1884. 

A  Handbook  to  the  Works  of  Robert  Browning.  Mrs.  Sutherland 
Orr.  London  :  George  Bell  &  Sons.  1885. 

Same,  revised  and  enlarged.     1887. 

Sordello's  Story  Retold  in  Prose.  Annie  Wall.  Boston :  Hough- 
ton,  Mifflin  &  Co.  1886. 

Robert  Browning's  Poetry  :  Outline  Studies  of  the  Chicago  Brown- 
ing Society.  Chicago :  Charles  H.  Kerr  &  Co.  1886. 


The  Best  Things  said  of  Browning.  xi 

An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Browning.  Arthur  Symons.  Lon- 
don :  Cassell  &  Co.  1886. 

Browning's  Women.  Introduction  by  Rev.  E.  E.  Hale.  Mary  E. 
Burt.  Chicago :  Charles  H.  Kerr  &  Co.  1887. 

Select  Poems  of  Robert  Browning.  Edited,  with  notes,  by  William 
J.  Rolfe  and  Heloise  E.  Hersey.  New  York :  Harper  &  Brothers. 
1887. 

A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  and  other  Dramas  [Colombe's  Birthday 
and  A  Soul's  Tragedy].  By  Robert  Browning.  Edited,  with  notes, 
by  William  J.  Rolfe  and  Heloise  E.  Hersey.  New  York  :  Harper  & 
Brothers.  1887. 

An  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Robert  Browning's  Poetry.  Hiram 
Corsoii.  Boston  :  Heath  &  Co.  1888. 

Studies  in  the  Poetry  of  Robert  Browning.  James  Fotheringham. 
London,  1887. 

Same,  revised  and  enlarged.  New  York:  Scribner  &  Welford. 
1888. 

An  Introduction  to  the  Poetry  of  Robert  Browning.  William  J. 
Alexander.  Boston :  Ginn  &  Co.  1889. 

Sordello :  An  Outline  Analysis  of  Mr.  Browning's  Poem.  Jeanie 
Morison.  Edinburgh :  Blackwood  &  Sons.  1889. 

Outline  of  Browning's  Paracelsus,  with  a  Sketch  of  the  Paracelsus 
of  History.  Mrs.  Fanny  Holy.  Chicago :  Charles  H.  Kerr  &  Co. 
1889. 

Browning's  Message  to  his  Time  :  His  Religion,  Philosophy,  and 
Science.  Edward  Berdoe.  London  :  Swan  Sonnenschein  &  Co.  1890. 

Robert  Browning :  Essays  and  Thoughts.  John  T.  Nettleship. 
London :  Macmillan  &  Co.  1890.  [The  same  as  Essays  on  Robert 
Browning's  Poetry,  but  greatly  enlarged  with  new  essays.] 

Robert  Browning.  Memorial  Meeting  of  the  Syracuse  Browning 
Club,  January  9,  1890.  Syracuse  :  C.  W.  Bardeen.  1890. 


IV.  BOOKS  WITH  ESSAYS  ON  BROWNING. 

Papers  on  Literature  and  Art.  "  Browning's  Poems."  Margaret 
Fuller.  Boston,  1846. 

Essays  on  English  Literature.  "  Browning  and  Landor."  Thomas 
McNicoll.  London,  1861. 

Our  Living  Poets :  An  Essay  in  Criticism.  H.  B.  Forman.  Lon- 
don, 1871. 

Essays  Theological  and  Literary,  vol.  ii.  R.  H.  Button.  London, 
1871. 

Same,  in  Literary  Essays.     London :  Macmillan  &  Co.     1888. 

A  Comparative  Estimate  of  Modern  English  Poets.  J.  Devey. 
London :  Moxon.  1873. 

Studies  in  Literature.  "  Mr.  Tennyson  and  Mr.  Browning."  Ed- 
ward Dowden.  London  :  Kegan  Paul,  Trench  &  Co.  1878. 

Literary  Studies.  "  Wordsworth,  Tennyson,  and  Browning ;  or, 
Pure,  Ornate,  and  Grotesque  Art  in  English  Poetrv."  Walter  Bage- 
hot.  [Reprinted  from  The  National  Review,  19  :  27.]  London,  1879. 


xii  TJie  Best  Things  said  of  Browning. 

Poets  in  the  Pulpit.  H.  R.  Haweis.  London :  Sampson  Low  &  Co. 
1880. 

Obiter  Dicta.  "On  the  Alleged  Obscurity  of  Mr.  Browning's 
Poetry."  Augustine  Birrell.  London,  1884. 

Urbana  Scripta.  Studies  of  Five  Living  Poets.  Arthur  Galton. 
London,  1885. 

Chapters  on  English  Metre.    Joseph  B.  Mayor.     London,  1886. 

Poets  and  Problems :  Tennyson,  Ruskin,  Browning.  George  Wil- 
lis Cooke.  Boston,  1886. 

Essays  on  Poetry  and  Poets.     Roden  Noel.     London,  1886. 

Victorian  Poets.     Edmund  C.  Stedman.    Boston,  1876. 

Same,  revised  and  enlarged.     1887. 

Transcripts  and  Studies.  "Mr.  Browning's  Sordello."  Edward 
Dowden.  London,  1888. 

Studies,  New  and  Old.  "  Robert  Browning :  Writer  of  Plays." 
W.  L.  Courtney.  London,  1888. 

Dante  and  other  Essays.  "Sordello."  R.  W.  Church.  London, 
1888. 

Philosophy  and  Religion.  "  Poetry  and  Robert  Browning :  a  Lec- 
ture." A.  H.  Strong.  New  York,  1888. 

Three  Lectures  on  English  Literature.  "  The  Poetry  of  Robert 
Browning."  William  S.  M'Cormack.  London,  1889. 

Le  Renaissance  de  la  poe'sie  anglaise.  Gabriel  Sarrazin.  Paris : 
Perrin  et  Cie.  1889. 

Studies  in  Literature  and  Life.  George  E.  Woodberry.  [Reprinted 
from  The  Atlantic  Monthly,  65  :  243.]  Boston  :  Houghton,  Mifflin  & 
Co.  1890. 

Four  Great  Teachers.     Joseph  Forster.     Orpington,  1890. 

V.    MAGAZINE  ARTICLES  OF  SPECIAL  VALUE. 

North  American  Review.  1848.  "  Browning's  Plays  and  Poems." 
James  Russell  Lowell.  66  :  357. 

The  Contemporary  Review.  1867.  "Robert  Browning."  4:1, 
133. 

The  Dark  Blue.  1871.  "  Browning  as  a  Preacher."  Miss  E.  Dick- 
inson West.  •  2  :  171,  305.  [Reprinted  in  Littell's  Living  Age.] 

The  Contemporary  Review.  1874.  "  Mr.  Browning's  Place  in  Lit- 
erature." Mrs.  Sutherland  Orr.  23  :  934.  [Reprinted  in  Littell's 
Living  Age.  122  :  67.] 

International  Review.     1879.     G.  Barnett  Smith.     6  :  176. 

The  Contemporary  Review.     January,  1890.     Stopford  Brooke. 

The  National  Review.     January,  1890.     H.  D.  Traill.     14  :  592. 

The  Arena.  February,  1890.  "  Browning's  Message  to  the  Nine- 
teenth Century."  James  T.  Bixby. 

The  Cosmopolitan.  March,  1890.  "  Browning's  Place  in  Litera- 
ture." Mrs.  E.  S.  Forman. 

The  Andover  Review.  February,  1889.  "The  Tragic  Motive  in 
Browning's  Dramas."  Professor  C.  C.  Everett. 


The  Best  Things  said  of  Browning^         xiii 


GENERAL    ARTICLES   IN   THE    BROWNING   SOCIETY 
PAPERS. 


Introductory  Address  to  the  Browning  Society.  By  Rev.  J.  Kirk- 
man.  1  :  171. 

Mr.  Nettieship's  Classification  of  Browning's  Works.     1  :  231. 

Mrs.  Orr's  Classification  of  Browning's  Poems.     1  :  235. 

Notes  on  the  Genius  of  Robert  Browning.  By  James  Thomson. 
1  :  239. 


Browning's  Philosophy.     By  John  Bury.     1  :  259. 

The  Idea  of  Personality,  as  embodied  in  Robert  Browning's  Poetry. 
By  Hiram  Corson.  1  :  293. 

The  Religious  Teaching  of  Browning.  By  Dorothea  Beale.    1  :  323. 

Conscience  and  Art  in  Browning.     By  Prof.  E.  Johnson.     1  :  345. 

Robert  Browning.  His  Genius  and  Works.  By  G.  Barnett  Smith. 
1:7*. 

PABT   IV. 

Browning's  Intuition,  specially  in  regard  of  Music  and  the  Plastic 
Arts.  By  J.  T.  Nettleship.  1  :  381. 

On  Some  Points  in  Browning's  View  of  Life.  By  Prof.  B.  F.  West- 
cott.  1 :  397. 

One  Aspect  of  Browning's  Villains.     By  Miss  D.  West.     1  :  411. 

Browning's  Poems  on  God  and  Immortality  as  bearing  on  Life. 
By  William  F.  Revell.  1  :  435. 


On  Some  Prominent  Points  in  Browning's  Teaching.     By  W.  A. 
Raleigh.     1  :  477. 

Browning's  Ecclesiastics.     By  Rev.  J.  S.  Jones.     1  :  109*. 


Is  Browning  Dramatic  ?     By  Arthur  Symons.     2:1. 
Browning  as  a  Scientific  Poet.     By  Edward  Berdoe.    2  :  33. 

PABT  vm. 

Development  of  Browning's  Genius  in  his  Capacity  as  Poet  or  Maker. 
By  J.  T.  Nettleship.  2  :  55. 

Browning  as  a  Landscape  Painter.     By  Howard  Pearson.     2  :  103. 

The  Reasonable  Rhythm  of  Some  of  Mr.  Browning's  Poems.  By 
Rev.  H.  J.  Bulkeley.  2  :  119. 


xiv          The  Best  Things  said  of  Browning. 


Some  Notes  on  Browning's  Poems  relating  to  Music.     By  Helen  J. 
Ormerod.    2  :  180. 


Browning's  Views  of  Life.     By  William  F.  Revell.     2  :  197. 

Browning's  Estimate  of  Life.     By  Edward  Berdoe.     2  :  200. 

Browning's  Jews  and  Shakespeare's  Jew.  By  Prof.  P.  A.  Barnett 
2 :  207. 

Browning  as  a  Teacher  of  the  Nineteenth  Century.  By  Miss  C.  M. 
Whitehead.  2 :  237. 


LEADING  EVENTS  IN  ROBERT  BROWNING'S 
LIFE. 

ANCESTRY. 

Robert  Browning,  butler,  died  November  25,  1746. 

Thomas  Browning,  innkeeper,  born  October  1,  1721 ;  died  Septem- 
ber 5,  1794. 

Robert  Browning,  bank  clerk,  born  July  26,  1749 ;  died  December 
11,  1833. 

Robert  Browning,  bank  clerk,  born  July  6,  1782 ;  died  June  14, 
1866 ;  married  Sarab  Anne  (Sarianna)  Weidemann,  born  1790  (?) ; 
died  1849. 


1812.  Robert  Browning,  born  May  7,  Parish  of  St.  Giles,  Camber- 
well,  London. 

Baptized    June    14,    by    George    Clayton,    Congregational 
Chapel,  Walworth. 

Attended  private  school  until  fourteen. 

Then  had  a  tutor  at  home. 
1825.  Obtains  Shelley's  poems. 

1829-30.  Attends  lectures  at  University  College,  London. 
1833.  Pauline  published,  January. 
1833-34.  Travels  in  Russia  and  Italy. 
1835.  Paracelsus  published. 
1837.  Strafford  published. 

Strafford  produced  at  the  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  May  1. 

1840.  Sordello  published. 

1841.  Publication  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates  begun. 
Pippa  Passes  published. 

1842.  King  Victor  and  King  Charles  published. 
Dramatic  Lyrics  published. 

1843.  The  Return  of  the  Druses  published. 
A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  published. 

A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  produced  at  the  Theatre  Royal, 
Drury  Lane,  February  11. 


xvi    Leading  Events  in  Robert  Browning's  Life. 

1844.  Colombe's  Birthday  published. 

1845.  Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics  published. 

1846.  Lwria  published. 

A  Soul's  Tragedy  published. 

Marriage  of  Robert  Browning  and  Elizabeth  Barrett,  Septem- 
ber 12. 

1847.  Settles  in  Italy,  at  Casa  Guidi,  Florence. 

1849.  Birth  of  Robert  Barrett  Browning,  March  9. 
Poems  published,  first  collected  edition. 

1850.  Christmas-Eve  and  Easter-Day  published. 

1852.  Introductory  Essay  to  (spurious)  Letters   of  Percy  Bysshe 

Shelley  published. 

1853.  Colombe's  Birthday  produced  at  The  Haymarket  Theatre,  by 

Miss  Helen  Faucit,  April  25. 
1855.  Men  and  Women  published. 
1861.  Mrs.  Browning  died  at  Casa  Guidi,  June  29. 

1863.  Poetical  Works  published. 

1864.  Dramatis  Persona  published. 

1868.  Poetical  Works  published  (in  six  volumes). 
1868-69.  The  Ring  and  the  Book  published. 

1871.  Balaustion's  Adventure  published,  August. 

Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau,  Savior   of  Society,  published, 
December. 

1872.  Fifine  at  the  Fair  published. 

1873.  Red  Cotton  Night-Cap  Country ;  or,   Turf  and  Towers,  pub- 

lished. 

1875.  Aristophanes'  Apology  published,  April. 
The  Inn  Album  published,  November. 

1877.  The  Agamemnon  of  ^Eschylus  published,  October. 

1878.  La  Saisiaz :  The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic,  published. 

1879.  Dramatic  Idyls  published,  May. 

Elected  President  of  the  New  Shakespeare  Society. 

1880.  Dramatic  Idyls,  Second  Series,  published,  July. 

1881.  London  Browning  Society  holds  its  first  meeting,  October  25. 

1883.  Jocoseria  published,  March. 

1884.  Ferishtah's  Fancies  published,  November. 

1887.  Parleyings  with  Certain  People   of  Importance  in  their  Day 

published. 
1889.  Asolando:  Fancies  and  Facts,  published,  December. 

Robert  Browning  died,  Palazzo  Rezzonico,  Venice,  December 
12 ;  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey,  December  31. 


A    GUIDE    BOOK 


WRITINGS  OF  ROBERT  BROWNING. 


Abt  Vogler.  Dramatis  Personce,  1864.  No  changes 
have  been  made  except  that  in  the  tenth  stanza  "  semblance  " 
has  taken  the  place  of  "  likeness." 

Abt  Vogler  was  a  Catholic  priest  (hence  abt  or  abbe"), 
and  a  musical  composer.  His  full  name  was  George  Joseph 
Vogler,  and  he  was  born  at  Wiirzburg,  Bavaria,  June  15, 
1749.  He  early  showed  musical  talent,  and  he  learned  to 
play  on  several  instruments  without  instruction.  He  was 
educated  at  the  Jesuit  school  in  his  native  town,  and  at 
Bamberg.  While  studying  at  Mannheim  he  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  Elector,  Carl  Theodore,  who  became  his 
patron,  and  sent  him  to  study  counterpoint  under  Abbe" 
Martini  at  Bologna.  Tiring  of  this  teacher  in  six  weeks, 
Vogler  went  to  Padua  to  study  harmony  and  musical  com- 
position with  Abb£  Vallotti.  Going  to  Rome  to  complete 
his  theological  studies,  he  was  ordained  a  priest  in  1773. 
Here  he  was  warmly  received,  admitted  to  the  famous  acad- 
emy of  Arcadia,  made  a  knight  of  the  Golden  Spur,  and 
appointed  protonotary  and  chamberlain  to  the  Pope. 

He  returned  to  Mannheim  in  1775,  opened  a  music-school 
and  published  several  musical  works.  He  invented  a  new 
system  of  fingering  for  the  harpsichord,  which  Mozart  pro- 
nounced "  miserable  "  ;  and  he  also  invented  a  new  method 
of  building  the  organ,  by  introducing  free  reeds  and  uniso- 
nous stops.  His  new  theories  were  strongly  opposed,  and  he 
was  called  a  charlatan.  His  school  prospered,  however ;  it 


2  Alt  Vogler. 

produced  several  able  musicians,  and  he  was  made  court 
chaplain  and  kapellmeister.  He  followed  his  patron  to 
Munich  in  1779,  produced  several  operas  and  other  works, 
became  disappointed  because  he  did  not  meet  with  greater 
success  and  because  he  was  made  the  butt  of  critics,  re- 
signed his  posts,  and  wandered  in  several  countries.  He 
collected  the  national  melodies  of  the  people  in  the  various 
countries  he  visited.  In  1786  he  became  the  kapellmeister 
to  the  king  of  Sweden,  and  in  Stockholm  he  opened  a  sec- 
ond music-school.  At  this  time  he  invented  the  "  Orches- 
trion," which  was  "  a  compact  organ,  with  four  key-boards 
of  five  octaves  each,  a  pedal  board  of  thirty-six  keys,  with 
swell  complete."  This  is  the  instrument  of  his  own  inven- 
tion on  which  he  is  extemporizing  in  Browning's  poem.  It 
was  much  praised  by  some  ;  it  was  as  violently  attacked  by 
others. 

In  1790  he  went  to  London  with  his  instrument,  gave  a 
series  of  very  successful  concerts,  and  was  commissioned  to 
build  an  organ  for  the  "  Pantheon."  Returning  to  Ger- 
many he  met  with  an  enthusiastic  reception,  brought  out  an 
opera,  and  published  a  musical  work.  He  retained  his 
position  at  Stockholm  until  1799,  but  he  visited  other  coun- 
tries, established  music  schools,  published  various  works, 
brought  out  operas  and  gave  concerts.  In  1807  he  became 
the  kapellmeister  to  the  Grand  Duke  of  Hesse-Darmstadt, 
and  settled  in  Darmstadt.  Here  he  opened  his  third  music- 
school,  and  had  among  his  pupils  Weber  and  Meyerbeer. 
Vogler  died  of  apoplexy  in  Darmstadt,  May  6,  1814,  his 
last  years  having  been  occupied  with  his  school  and  in  the 
publication  of  his  works.  These  last  were  on  musical 
methods. 

Much  difference  of  opinion  has  existed  in  regard  to  the 
character  of  Vogler  as  a  composer  and  inventor.  Some 
have  regarded  him  as  a  man  of  originality  and  a  genius ; 
by  others  he  has  been  pronounced  a  mere  charlatan.  He 
was  very  eccentric,  at  least,  and  much  of  a  visionary  as  to 
his  theories.  A  brilliant  performer,  he  had  a  madness  for 
reform  ;  but  he  had  not  the  genius  which  discovers  new 
methods  of  permanent  value.  In  various  ways  he  contrib- 
uted to  the  growth  of  musical  science,  and  he  aided  largely 
in  making  music  popular.  His  visionary  character,  his 


Alt  Vogler.  3 

wonderful  talent  as  an  extemporizer,  and  his  religious  call- 
ing are  well  brought  out  in  the  poem. 

The  improvements  proposed  by  Vogler  in  the  construction 
of  the  organ  were  four  in  number :  the  introduction  of 
smaller  and  less  expensive  pipes  ;  the  use  of  free  reeds ;  a 
different  order  in  the  arrangement  of  the  pipes  in  the  wind- 
chest  ;  and  the  discarding  of  mutation  stops.  His  inventive 
genius  did  much  for  music,  however  severely  he  was  con- 
demned, but  he  had  not  the  wise  judgment  which  was 
necessary  to  perfect  success.  He  suggested  rather  than 
accomplished  great  results. 

"  It  was  as  an  organist  and  theorist,"  says  the  writer  in 
Grove's  Dictionary  of  Music  and  Musicians,  "  that  Vo- 
gler made  most  stir.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  an  im- 
portant town  in  central  Europe  in  which  he  had  not  per- 
formed on  the  organ.  He  could  stretch  two  octaves  with 
ease,  and  practice  had  turned  this  natural  advantage  to  such 
good  use  that  he  was  indisputably  the  first  organist  of  his 
age.  His  extempore  playing  never  failed  to  create  an  im- 
pression, and  in  the  elevated  fugal  style  he  easily  distanced 
all  rivals."  "  It  is  as  a  teacher,"  says  the  same  authority, 
"  that  Vogler  has  most  claims  on  posterity,  for  no  musician 
has  ever  had  so  many  remarkable  pupils.  As  a  teacher  of 
singing  he  was  in  great  request." 

The  following  account  of  the  musician  is  given  by  Dr.  J. 
H.  Mee,  a  musical  critic  :  "  Vogler  was  short  in  stature,  and 
latterly  became  corpulent.  His  arms  were  of  great  length, 
his  hands  enormous,  and  his  general  aspect  has  been  de- 
scribed as  that  of  a  fat  ape.  His  singular  character  was 
strongly  tinged  with  vanity,  and  not  without  a  touch  of  ar- 
rogance. He  delighted  to  array  himself  in  his  purple 
stockings  and  gold  buckles,  with  his  black  silk  ecclesiastical 
mantle,  and  the  great  cross  of  the  Order  of  Merit  given  him 
by  the  Grand  Duke  of  Hesse.  He  would  take  his  prayer- 
book  with  him  into  society,  and  often  keep  his  visitors 
waiting  while  he  finished  his  devotions.  Beneath  his  quaint 
exterior  lay  remarkable  mental  gifts,  a  great  insight  into 
character,  and  a  powerful  memory.  Nor  were  his  egotism 
and  affectation  without  counterbalancing  excellences.  He 
was  always  anxious  to  avoid  a  quarrel,  ready  to  acknow- 
ledge the  merits  of  brother  artists,  and  to  defend  them 


4  Abt   Vogler. 

even  if  they  had  opposed  him,  provided  their  music  was 
good.  The  civility  which  he  showed  to  Mozart  is  in  marked 
contrast  to  Mozart's  behavior  towards  him.  Moreover, 
his  vanity  did  not  blind  him  to  his  own  defects.  He  was 
well  aware  that  harmony,  not  melody,  was  the  department 
in  which  he  excelled.  An  enthusiastic  contemporary, 
Schubart,  calls  him  an  epoch-making  man.  The  expression 
is  too  strong,  but  as  a  musical  iconoclast  Vogler  certainly 
did  excellent  service.  His  incessant  attacks  on  the  pedantic 
methods  of  musical  instruction  and  systems  of  harmony  in 
vogue,  and  on  the  old  methods  of  organ-building,  were  often 
extravagant  and  untrue,  as,  for  example,  the  statement  that 
Bach  did  not  know  what  a  chorale  was.  ...  As  a  com- 
poser it  was  his  aim  to  retain  the  simple  and  severe  beauty 
of  the  old  church  music  and  yet  enrich  it  with  the  wealth 
of  harmony  at  the  command  of  modern  music." 

It  has  been  said  that  Vogler's  music  has  been  lost ;  but 
this  statement  is  not  true.  His  Missa  Pastoricia  is  per- 
formed every  Christmas  at  the  Hofkapelle,  Vienna.  Herr 
Richter  reports  that  he  has  heard  this  mass  more  than  once, 
and  he  describes  it  as  a  remarkably  fine  composition,  with 
beautiful  effects  for  oboes  and  horns.  Other  works  of  Vo- 
gler's are  accessible,  and  are  not  infrequently  met  with. 
Grove's  Dictionary  of  Music  and  Musicians  gives  the  best 
account  of  Vogler  in  English,  also  a  full  list  of  his  works. 
The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  ten,  2 :  221  and 
2 :  229*,  gives  an  extended  biographical  account  of  Vogler 
by  Helen  J.  Ormerod  ;  and  a  briefer  sketch  will  be  found  in 
number  three,  1 :  339,  by  Eleanor  Marx. 

An  excellent  interpretation  of  the  poem  is  that  by  Mrs. 
Turn  bull  in  number  four  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers, 
1 :  469  and  1 :  79*.  It  brings  out  fully  Browning's  indebt- 
edness to  the  idealistic  philosophy  of  Plato,  Spinoza,  Hegel, 
More  and  Norris,  for  the  ideas  presented  in  the  poem.  It 
is  shown  that  these  thinkers  haye  regarded  music  as  the  art 
most  capable  of  interpreting  the  spiritual  world,  or,  in  the 
words  of  the  Religio  Medici,  as  having  "  something  in  it  of 
divinity  more  than  the  ear  discovers."  Other  expositions 
are  those  of  the  Rev.  J.  Kirkman,  in  The  Browning 
Society's  Papers  number  two,  1  : 180,  and  Corson,  in  his 
Introduction  to  Browning. 


Adam,  LilitJi  and  Eve.  —  After.  5 

Adam,  Lilith  and  Eve.  Jocoseria,  1883.  This  poem 
is  based  on  the  Hebrew  rabbinical  legend,  that  Adam  had  a 
wife  before  Eve,  whose  name  was  Lilith.  The  origin  of  the 
legend  is  to  be  found  in  the  two  accounts  of  the  creation  of 
man  and  woman,  contained  in  Genesis.  In  the  first  account, 
Genesis  i.  27,  man  and  woman  were  created  together  ;  in  the 
second,  ii.  18,  the  man  is  created  first,  and  afterwards  the 
woman  taken  from  his  side.  The  Talmudists  explained  the 
first  text  by  saying  that  the  wife  created  of  clay  with  Adam 
was  Lilith ;  but  she  became  proud  and  willful,  and  would 
not  submit  to  Adam's  rule.  Finding  they  could  not  agree 
she  left  him  and  fled  to  the  sea,  where  she  had  many  children, 
who  were  demons ;  and  because  she  would  not  return  to 
Adam  a  hundred  of  her  children  died  each  day.  Another 
form  of  the  legend  says  God  drove  her  out  of  Paradise  and 
then  created  Eve  in  the  manner  of  the  second  account ;  and 
for  the  reasons  there  given.  The  legend  also  says  that  Lilith 
married  the  Devil  and  became  the  mother  of  the  Jins,  a  race 
of  beings  having  the  characteristics  of  both  men  and  demons. 
In  Hebrew  popular  legend  Lilith  was  a  destroyer  of  infants ; 
and  the  names  of  protecting  angels  were  written  on  parch- 
ment and  bound  on  children  to  counteract  her  influence.  Her 
name  was  associated  with  the  screech-owl  as  a  being  of  night 
and  desolation.  The  lilith  was  often  described  as  a  nocturnal 
spectre  in  the  form  of  a  beautiful  woman,  who  stole  away 
children  in  the  night  and  destroyed  them.  The  word  "  lul- 
laby "is  referred  by  some  philologists  to  Lilith. 

The  details  of  this  legend  are  not  used  by  the  poet ;  and 
he  makes  Lilith  and  Eve  both  seek  for  the  love  of  Adam  at 
the  same  time.  In  fact,  he  uses  nothing  more  of  the  legend 
than  the  names.  The  poem  is  a  study  of  character,  and 
especially  of  the  influence  of  fear  in  causing  an  expression 
of  the  true  nature  of  the  individual.  The  women  make 
confession  of  their  real  thoughts  under  the  effects  of  fear ; 
but  when  the  danger  is  past  they  seek  to  annul  the  confession 
by  giving  it  a  trifling  interpretation.  Although  the  poem 
is  a  short  one  it  contains  a  subtle  .study  of  two  forms  of 
love  in  women,  and  of  the  masculine  manner  of  receiving 
that  love. 

After.  .See  Before  to  which  this  poem  is  the  sequel. 
The  two  were  published  together,  as  one  poem. 


6  The  Agamemnon  of  ^Eschylus, 

Agamemnon  of  ^Eschylus,  The.  This  is  a  translation, 
first  published  in  October,  1877,  by  Smith,  Elder  and  Co., 
London.  Pages  i.— vi.  1—148. 

The  Agamemnon  is  the  first  play  in  the  trilogy  of  Orestes. 
The  Orestean  is  the  only  extant  specimen  of  a  trilogy ;  and 
it  is  undoubtedly  the  greatest  of  the  works  of  Aeschylus. 
It  was  written  with  reference  to  the  political  and  religious 
condition  of  Athens  at  the  time  of  its  presentation,  and  in 
the  interests  of  the  conservative  party,  but  without  marked 
effect.  It  is  based  on  the  story  of  Agamemnon,  as  related 
in  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey,  and  on  the  belief  that  wrongdoing 
is  punished,  even  to  the  third  and  fourth  generation,  or 
until  some  one  makes  expiation  for  the  sin  committed.  The 
story  is  this  :  Atreus,  son  of  Pelops,  avenged  himself  of  a 
wrong  done  by  his  brother  Thyestes,  by  inviting  him  to  a 
banquet  consisting  of  the  flesh  of  Thyestes'  children,  of  which 
the  father  unconsciously  partook.  This  horrible  crime 
brought  dark  evils  upon  the  family  until  it  was  expiated  by 
Orestes.  Agamemnon,  the  leader  of  the  Greeks  against  Troy, 
was  the  son  of  the  impious  Atreus,  and  this  relation  brought 
upon  him  the  infidelity  of  his  wife,  and  his  own  death  at  her 
hands.  While  he  was  at  Troy,  Clytemnestra  had  taken  as 
her  paramour  JEgisthus,  a  son  of  Thyestes.  Two  years 
after,  Troy  was  conquered,  and  Agamemnon  returned  to  his 
home,  bringing  with  him  Cassandra  as  a  concubine. 

At  the  opening  of  Agamemnon  the  watch  set  by  Clytem- 
nestra has  discovered  the  signal  agreed  upon  for  reporting 
the  end  of  the  war.  Soon  after  follows  a  herald  announ- 
cing the  speedy  return  of  the  king.  In  a  few  days  Agamem- 
non appears,  accompanied  by  Cassandra,  who  has  prophetic 
gifts  of  a  remarkable  kind.  When  the  king  and  queen  pass 
into  the  palace,  after  the  first  salutations  are  over,  Cassandra 
begins  to  see  in  vision,  and  to  describe  to  the  chorus,  the 
sins  of  the  family,  and  to  behold  the  death  of  the  king  and 
herself.  Then  is  heard  the  death-cry  of  Agamemnon  as  he 
is  being  murdered  by  Clytemnestra  and  ./Egisthus.  Cassan- 
dra rushes  into  the  palace,  and  meets  a  like  fate.  Then 
Clytemnestra  declares  that  she  has  been  the  hand  of  fate  to 
avenge  the  death  of  Iphigenia  her  daughter,  who  had  been 
slain  by  Agamemnon  to  appease  the  wrath  of  Artemis ;  and 
also  that  she  has  avenged  the  evil  brought  upon  her  by 
the  presence  of  Cassandra. 


The  Agamemnon  of  ^Jschylus.  7 

In  the  Libation  Pourers  Orestes  becomes  the  avenger  of 
the  death  of  his  father  Agamemnon  by  the  death  of  Clytem- 
nestra,  his  mother.  In  the'  Eiimenides  the  Furies  pursue 
Orestes  because  of  the  sins  of  his  family,  until  he  makes 
expiation  at  the  shrine  of  the  Delphic  oracle,  when  the  curse 
is  removed. 

In  the  preface  to  this  translation  Browning  sets  forth  the 
principles  which  he  has  followed  in  producing  it.  These  are, 
that  it  should  be  literal  at  every  cost ;  and  that  it  should 
reproduce  the  peculiarities  of  the  original.  He  has  also 
attempted  to  reproduce  the  Greek  spelling  in  English,  after 
a  manner  of  his  own.  Mr.  Frederic  Harrison  says  of  this 
translation,  that  "  its  uncouthness  is  not  the  rugged  majesty 
of  ^Eschylus."  On  the  other  hand,  Professor  J.  P.  Mahaffy 
says  that  the  translator  "  has  given  us  an  over-faithful  ver- 
sion from  his  matchless  hand  —  matchless  in  conveying  the 
deeper  spirit  of  the  Greek  poets.  But  in  this  instance  he 
has  outdone  his  original  in  ruggedness,  owing  to  his  excess 
of  conscience  as  a  translator." 

In  The  Athenaeum  of  October  27,  1877,  is  a  long  re- 
view of  the  translation,  in  the  course  of  which  the  writer 
discusses  its  merits  as  follows  :  "  He  (the  translator)  pro- 
posed to  himself  a  poetical  translation  of  the  most  rigid  liter- 
ality,  and  manfully  has  kept  his  word.  In  the  choruses 
alone  does  he  allow  himself  some  very  slight  latitude,  expand- 
ing the  actual,  but  never  engrafting  an  alien,  meaning. 
These  choruses  are  rhymed,  and  some  percentage  of  their 
rhymes  are  double  ones,  which  increases  the  lyrical  effect 
and  trebles  the  difficulty.  They  have  evidently  taxed  the 
resources  of  the  best  English  rhymist  since  the  author  of 
Hudibras  to  the  utmost.  The  trochaic  and  anapaestic 
measures  of  the  original  are  approximately  rendered.  The 
speeches  and  dialogues  follow  the  ordinary  trimeter  iambics 
of  Greek  tragedy.  They  reproduce  word  for  word,  and  line 
for  line,  the  sense  of  the  original.  None  of  the  prose  ver- 
sions which  we  have  seen  is,  choruses  excepted,  so  literal 
as  Mr.  Browning.  .  .  .  And  because  Mr.  Browning  has 
nobly  and  unfalteringly  acted  up  to  these  precepts,  his  tran- 
scription is  most  unequal  in  its  excellence.  Had  he  been 
less  conscientious,  he  could,  no  man  better,  have  given  us  not 
one  bald  or  commonplace  line.  .  .  .  But  Mr.  Browning  has 


8      A  King  lived  long  ago.  —  Andrea  del  Sarto. 

splendidly  denied  himself,  and  is  unflinchingly  crude,  point- 
less, even  clumsy,  where  the  Greek  pushes  and  compels  him. 
Yet  in  the  most  rugged  passages  he  never  once  flings  his 
literality  overboard.  .  .  .  His  verbal  resource  is  amazing. 
But  here  and  again,  when,  under  his  masterly  touch,  the 
Greek  has  rendered  itself  for  a  page  without  to  us  apparent 
effort,  word  for  word,  and  phrase  for  phrase,  into  English 
eloquent  and  sonorous,  all  at  once  some  single  line  crops 
up  which  cannot  be  rendered  both  beautifully  and  exactly, 
so  Mr.  Browning  leaves  it  unbeautiful  and  bald,  and  careers 
on  as  finely  as  before.  .  .  .  Mr.  Browning  is  never  obscure 
in  the  compass  of  the  present  translation.  When  he  seems  so, 
turn  to  the  original,  and  there  the  obscurity  will  be  found. 
Indeed,  so  anxious  is  he  to  set  forth  his  author  clearly  that 
he  manages  to  make  very  plausible-looking  sense  out  of 
many  a  dubious  periphrasis." 

The  readers  of  Browning's  translation  of  the  Agamemnon 
will  find  much  valuable  help  in  the  introduction  and  notes 
to  Professor  E.  H.  Plumptre's  translation  of  the  works  of 
./Eschylus.  Many  of  the  obscurities  are  there  explained,  as 
well  as  the  historical  and  other  allusions.  See  The  Acad- 
emy, Nov.  3,  1877,  by  J.  A.  Symonds ;  The  Edinburgh  Re- 
view, 147  :  409 ;  Boston  Literanj  World,  13  :  419. 

A  King  lived  long  ago.  The  song  of  Pippa  in  Pippa 
Passes,  as  she  goes  by  the  house  of  Luigi,  vol.  1,  p.  356, 
Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works.  See  The  King, 
in  this  volume.  This  song  was  first  published  in  The 
Monthly  Repository,  edited  by  W.  J.  Fox,  in  1835.  In 
1841  it  was  incorporated  into  Pippa  Passes. 

All  Service  ranks  the  same  with  God.  Pippa's 
New  Year's  hymn  in  Pippa  Passes,  vol.  1,  p.  341,  River- 
side edition  of  Browning's  Works. 

Amphibian.  The  prologue  to  Fiftne  at  the  Fair,  as  re- 
printed in  the  second  series  of  Selections,  from  his  poems 
made  by  Browning  himself. 

Anael.  The  young  girl  in  The  Return  of  the  Druses,  who 
loves  Djabal,  and  who  believes  in  his  being  the  Hakeem. 

Andrea  del  Sarto.  Published  first  as  the  opening 
poem  of  the  second  volume  of  Men  and  Women,  1855  ; 
and  it  has  since  remained  in  that  collection  of  poems. 

Andrea  del  Sarto  was  born  at  Gualfonda,   Florence,  in 


Andrea  del  Sarto.  9 

1486  or  1487.  His  father  was  a  tailor,  hence  his  name 
"Sarto";  translated  into  English  his  name  would  be  "An- 
drew the  tailor."  The  question  as  to  his  real  name  seems  not 
to  be  settled,  as  to  whether  it  was  Vanucchi  or  some  other. 
He  was  apprenticed  to  a  goldsmith,  then  to  a  woodcarver 
and  painter  ;  but  he  was  soon  drawn  to  painting  as  the  one 
thing  he  cared  for.  By  1509  he  had  obtained  quite  a  repu- 
tation as  a  painter ;  and  he  then  produced  several  excellent 
works  for  the  Servite  monks,  which  brought  him  much  praise. 
It  was  at  this  time  he  was  given  the  name  of  "  Andrea  senza 
errori "  or  "  Andrew  the  unerring  "  ;  sometimes  given  as  "  il 
pittore  senza  errori  "  or  "  the  faultless  painter." 

It  is  said  that  Andrea  del  Sarto  worked  with  rapidity 
and  great  correctness  of  touch,  but  that  naturally  he  was 
timid  and  diffident.  He  remained  a  plebeian  in  his  manner 
of  life  ;  he  was  easy-going  and  sociable  and  fully  enjoyed  life 
wherever  he  might  be.  He  fell  in  love  with  Lucrezia  del 
Fede,  the  wife  of  a  hatter  who  died  soon  after,  and  del 
Sarto  married  her  in  1512.  She  was  beautiful,  but  of  a 
somewhat  sensual  type,  selfish  and  exacting.  Recent  histo- 
rians, however,  have  given  her  a  nobler  character  than  that 
attributed  to  her  by  Browning.  Andrea  often  painted  her 
as  a  Madonna,  and  all  his  women  partook  of  her  type. 

In  June,  1518,  Andrea  went  to  France  at  the  invitation 
of  Francis  I.,  leaving  his  wife  behind.  He  did  some  excel- 
lent work  for  the  king,  but  his  wife  urged  him  to  return, 
and  after  a  few  months  he  obtained  permission  for  a  brief 
season.  Francis  entrusted  him  with  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  with  which  to  buy  pictures ;  but  this  money 
was  spent  by  Andrea  in  building  a  house  for  himself  at 
Florence,  and  his  wife  induced  him  to  abandon  his  purpose 
of  returning  to  France.  In  1525  he  painted  his  master- 
piece, the  Madonna  of  the  Sack.  He  died  January  22, 1531, 
at  the  age  of  forty-three,  of  the  infectious  pestilence  which 
followed  the  siege  of  the  city  shortly  before.  His  wife  did 
not  attend  him  in  his  last  illness,  and  he  was  buried  with 
little  ceremony. 

Andrea  del  Sarto  painted  a  large  number  of  pictures, 
many  of  them  of  high  merit,  of  which  all  the  best  are  in 
Florence.  Vasari  was  introduced  to  Andrea  by  Michel- 
angelo, and  the  latter  said  to  Vasari :  "  There  is  a  little 


10  Andrea  del  Sarto. 

fellow  in  Florence  who  will  bring  sweat  to  your  brow  if  ever 
he  is  engaged  in  great  works."  He  was  lacking  in  ideality 
and  elevation  of  thought ;  but  he  had  a  true  pictorial  style, 
a  •  very  high  standard  of  correctness,  and  an  enviable  bal- 
ance of  executive  endowments.  He  had  almost  everything 
necessary  to  the  making  of  a  great  painter  except  inspiration 
and  a  deep  consecration  to  a  high  purpose.  In  every  out- 
ward requirement  of  art  he  was  unerring  in  his  certainty  of 
touch,  and  he  was  faultless  in  his  executive  power.  A  vital 
defect  lurked  at  the  heart  of  his  work,  however,  and  it 
lacked  the  inspiration  of  a  great  soul. 

In  his  work  on  the  Fine  Arts  in  Italy  during  the  Renais- 
sance Mr.  J.  A.  Symonds,  in  speaking  of  Andrea  del  Sarto 
as  the  faultless  painter,  describes  his  work  and  the  defect 
which  gave  him  this  designation.  "  What  they  meant," 
says  Mr.  Symonds  of  those  who  gave  him  the  name,  "  must 
have  been  that  in  all  technical  requirements  of  art,  in  draw- 
ing, composition,  handling  of  fresco  and  oils,  disposition  of 
draperies,  and  feeling  for  light  and  shadow,  he  was  above 
criticism.  As  a  colorist  he  went  further  and  produced 
more  beautiful  effects  than  any  Florentine  before  him.  His 
silver-gray  harmonies  and  liquid  Mendings  of  hues,  cool, 
yet  lustrous,  have  a  charm  peculiar  to  himself  alone.  We 
find  the  like  nowhere  else  in  Italy.  And  yet  Andrea  del 
Sarto  cannot  take  rank  among  the  greatest  Renaissance 
painters.  What  he  lacked  was  precisely  the  most  precious 
gift  —  inspiration,  depth  of  emotion,  energy  of  thought.  We 
are  apt  to  feel  that  even  his  best  pictures  were  designed 
with  a  view  to  solving  an  aesthetic  problem.  Very  few 
have  the  poetic  charm  belonging  to  the  S.  John  of  the  Pitti 
or  the  Madonna  of  the  Tribune.  Beautiful  as  are  many  of 
his  types,  like  the  Magdalen  in  the  large  picture  of  the 
Pieta,  we  can  never  be  sure  that  he  will  not  break  the  spell 
by  forms  of  almost  vulgar  mediocrity.  The  story  that  his 
wife,  a  worthless  woman,  sat  for  his  Madonnas,  and  the 
legends  of  his  working  for  money  to  meet  pressing  needs, 
seem  justified  by  numbers  of  his  paintings,  faulty  in  their 
faultlessness  and  want  of  spirit.  Still,  after  all  these  de- 
ductions, we  must  allow  that  Andrea  del  Sarto  not  unwor- 
thily represents  the  golden  age  at  Florence.  There  is  no 
affectation,  no  false  taste,  no  trickery  in  his  style.  His 


Andrea  del  Sarto.  11 

workmanship  is  always  solid ;  his  hand  unerring.  If  Na- 
ture denied  him  the  soul  of  a  poet  and  the  stern  will  needed 
for  escaping  from  the  sordid  circumstances  of  his  life,  she 
gave  him  some  of  the  highest  qualities  a  painter  can  desire 
—  qualities  of  strength,  tranquillity  and  thoroughness,  that 
in  the  decline  of  the  century  ceased  to  exist  outside 
Venice." 

Browning  took  his  conception  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  from 
Giorgio  Vasari's  Lives  of  the  most  Eminent  Painters, 
Sculptors  and  Architects,  in  which  the  painter  is  described 
in  these  words :  "  In  Andrea  del  Sarto  nature  and  art  com- 
bined to  show  all  that  may  be  done  in  painting,  when  design, 
coloring  and  invention  unite  in  one  and  the  same  person. 
Had  this  master  possessed  a  somewhat  bolder  and  more  ele- 
vated mind ;  had  he  been  as  much  distinguished  for  higher 
qualifications  as  he  was  for  genius  and  depth  of  judgment  in 
the  art  he  practiced,  he  would,  beyond  all  doubt,  have  been 
without  an  equal.  But  there  was  a  certain  timidity  of  mind, 
a  sort  of  diffidence  and  want  of  force  in  his  nature,  which 
rendered  it  impossible  that  those  evidences  of  ardor  and 
animation  which  are  proper  to  the  more  exalted  character, 
should  ever  appear  in  him  ;  nor  did  he  at  any  time  display 
one  particle  of  that  elevation  which,  could  it  have  been 
added  to  the  advantages  wherewith  he  was  endowed,  would 
have  rendered  him  a  truly  divine  painter:  wherefore  the 
works  of  Andrea  are  wanting  in  those  ornaments  of  gran- 
deur, richness,  and  force,  which  appear  so  conspicuously 
in  those  of  many  other  masters.  His  figures  are,  neverthe- 
less, well  drawn,  they  are  entirely  free  from  errors,  and 
perfect  in  their  proportions,  and  are  for  the  most  part  sim- 
ple and  chaste  ;  the  expression  of  his  heads  is  natural  and 
graceful  in  women  and  children,  while  in  youths  and  old 
men  it  is  full  of  life  and  animation.  -The  draperies  of  this 
master  are  beautiful  to  a  marvel,  and  the  nude  figures  are 
admirably  executed,  the  drawing  is  simple,  the  coloring  is 
most  exquisite,  nay,  it  is  truly  divine." 

This  poem  is  in  a  large  measure  a  poetic  rendering  of  the 
prose  account  of  Vasari,  even  to  the  character  of  Lucrezia. 
In  the  first  edition  of  his  work  Vasari  gives  a  quite  full  ac- 
count of  her,  but  this  is  abbreviated  and  softened  somewhat 
in  the  second.  The  following  is  the  full  account  given  in 


12  Andrea  del  /Sarto. 

the  first  edition,  and  from  which  Browning  evidently  drew 
his  picture  of  this  fascinating  and  selfish  woman.  As 
Vasari  was  taught  his  art  by  del  Sarto  he  must  have  known 
her  well  and  had  a  good  basis  of  fact  for  his  description, 
though  he  may  have  colored  it  somewhat  to  her  prejudice. 

"  At  that  time,"  says  Vasari,  "  there  was  a  most  beauti- 
ful girl  in  the  Via  di  San  Gallo,  who  was  married  to  a  cap- 
maker, and  who,  though  born  of  a  poor  and  vicious  father, 
carried  about  her  as  much  pride  and  haughtiness  as  beauty 
and  fascination.  She  delighted  in  trapping  the  hearts  of 
men,  and  among  others  ensnared  the  unlucky  Andrea, 
whose  immoderate  love  for  her  soon  caused  him  to  neglect 
the  studies  demanded  by  his  art,  and  in  great  measure  to 
discontinue  the  assistance  which  he  had  given  to  his  pa- 
rents. 

"  Now  it  chanced  that  a  sudden  and  grievous  illness 
seized  the  husband  of  this  woman,  who  rose  no  more  from 
his  bed,  but  died  thereof.  Without  taking  counsel  of  his 
friends,  therefore  ;  without  regard  to  the  dignity  of  his  art 
or  the  consideration  due  to  his  genius,  and  to  the  eminence 
he  had  attained  with  so  much  labor ;  without  a  word,  in 
short,  to  any  of  his  kindred,  Andrea  took  this  Lucrezia  di 
Baccio  del  Fede,  such  was  the  name  of  the  woman,  to  be 
his  wife  ;  her  beauty  appearing  to  him  to  merit  thus  much 
at  his  hands,  and  his  love  for  her  having  more  influence 
over  him  than  the  glory  and  honor  towards  which  he  had 
begun  to  make  such  hopeful  advances.  But  when  this  news 
became  known  in  Florence,  the  respect  and  affection  which 
his  friends  had  previously  borne  to  Andrea  changed  to  con- 
tempt and  disgust,  since  it  appeared  to  them  that  the  dark- 
ness of  this  disgrace  had  obscured  for  a  time  all  the  glory 
and  renown  obtained  by  his  talents. 

"  But  he  destroyed  his  own  peace  as  well  as  estranged 
his  friends  by  this  act,  seeing  that  he  soon  became  jealous, 
and  found  that  he  had  besides  fallen  into  the  hands  of  an 
artful  woman,  who  made  him  do  as  she  pleased  in  all  things. 
He  abandoned  his  own  father  and  mother,  for  example,  and 
adopted  the  father  and  sisters  of  his  wife  in  their  stead  ;  in- 
somuch that  all  who  knew  the  facts  mourned  over  him,  and 
he  soon  began  to  be  as  much  avoided  as  he  had  been  previ- 
ously sought  after.  His  disciples  still  remained  with  him,  it 


Andrea  del  Sarto.  13 

is  true,  in  the  hope  of  learning  something  useful,  yet  there  was 
not  one  of  them,  great  or  small,  who  was  not  maltreated  by 
his  wife,  both  by  evil  words  and  despiteful  actions  ;  none  could 
escape  her  blows,  but  although  Andrea  lived  in  the  midst 
of  all  that  torment,  he  yet  accounted  it  a  high  pleasure." 

In  the  second  edition  of  Vasari's  work  the  above  account 
of  Lucrezia  was  displaced  by  the  following  :  "  But  having 
fallen  in  love  with  a  young  woman  whom  on  her  becoming 
a  widow  he  took  for  his  wife,  he  found  that  he  had  enough 
to  do  for  the  remainder  of  his  days,  and  was  subsequently 
obliged  to  work  much  more  laboriously  than  he  had  pre- 
viously done  ;  for  in  addition  to  the  duties  and  liabilities 
which  engagements  of  that  kind  are  wont  to  bring  with  them, 
Andrea  del  Sarto  found  that  he  had  brought  on  himself 
many  others ;  he  was  now  tormented  with  jealousy,  now  by 
one  thing,  now  by  another ;  but  ever  by  some  evil  conse- 
quence of  his  new  connection." 

Baldinucci  says  that  when  Jacopo  da  Empoli  was  copying 
del  Sarto's  picture  on  The  Birth  of  the  Virgin,  in  1570, 
an  aged  lady,  while  on  her  way  to  mass,  stopped  to  talk 
with  him.  She  pointed  out  to  him  one  of  the  figures  in  the 
fresco  as  that  of  Andrea's  wife,  and  finally  she  revealed  to 
him  that  she  was  herself  Lucrezia  del  Fede. 

Andrea  del  Sarto  painted  a  portrait  of  himself  and  wife 
which  is  now  in  the  Pitti  palace,  Florence.  In  this  picture 
the  painter  is  seen  in  three-quarter  face,  with  his  right  hand 
around  his  wife  and  resting  on  her  shoulder,  while  with  his 
left  hand  he  is  appealing  to  her  as  he  speaks.  The  wife  is 
presented  in  full  face,  with  a  letter  in  her  hand  and  a  golden 
chain  on  her  neck.  Mrs.  Browning's  cousin,  John  Kenyon, 
asked  for  a  copy  of  this  portrait,  but  Browning  could  not 
find  one,  and  he  wrote  this  poem  to  take  its  place,  putting 
into  verse  what  he  thought  was  the  meaning  of  the  picture. 

In  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  part  two,  p.  160,  is 
printed  a  letter,  written  by  Mr.  Ernest  Radford,  which  con- 
tains a  description  of  this  picture  with  reference  to  the  poem. 
"  The  artist  and  his  wife,"  he  says,  "  are  presented  at  half 
length.  Andrea  turns  towards  her  with  a  pleading  expres- 
sion on  his  face  —  a  face  not  so  beautiful  as  that  in  the 
splendid  portrait  in  the  National  Gallery  ;  but  when  once 
felt,  it  strikes  a  deeper  chord.  It  wears  an  expression  that 


14  Andrea  del  Sarto. 

cannot  be  forgotten,  that  nothing  can  suggest  but  the  poem 
of  Browning.  Andrea's  right  arm  is  round  her ;  he  leans 
forward  as  if  searching  her  face  for  the  strength  that  has 
gone  from  himself.  She  is  beautiful.  I  have  seen  the  face 
(varied  as  a  musician  varies  his  theme)  in  a  hundred  pic- 
tures. She  holds  the  letter  in  her  hand,  and  looks  neither 
at  that  nor  at  him,  but  straight  out  of  the  canvas.  And  the 
beautiful  face  with  the  red  brown  hair  is  passive  and  un- 
ruffled, and  awfully  expressionless.  There  is  silent  thunder 
in  this  face  if  there  ever  was,  though  there  is  no  anger.  It 
suggests  only  a  very  mild,  and  at  the  same  time  immutable 
determination  to  have  her  own  way.  Any  one  who  has  sat, 
as  I  have,  looking  at  the  picture  of  which  I  write,  will  feel 
that  the  poem  is  true,  not  merely  typically  but  historically." 

The  Andrea  del  Sarto  of  Vasari  and  the  Pitti  portrait  is 
described  in  an  exact  manner  in  the  poem  ;  but  he  is  also 
made  to  teach  a  lesson  of  high  ideal  import  with  reference 
both  to  art  and  life.  He  fully  recognizes  his  own  imper- 
fections as  a  man  and  as  an  artist,  for  he  is  not  able  to 
paint  the  soul  as  well  as  the  body.  He  praises  the  work  of 
Raphael  as  more  perfect  than  his  own,  because  it  aspires 
to  an  ideal  meaning  rather  than  to  a  technical  perfection. 
This  he  expresses  by  saying  that  "  a  man's  reach  should  ex- 
ceed his  grasp,  or  what 's  a  heaven  for  ?  " 

Michel  Agnolo.  The  more  correct  form  of  Michael- 
angelo.  —  The  Urbinate.  Raphael,  from  Urbino,  the  place 
of  his  birth.  —  Leonard.  Leonardo  da  Vinci. 

The  chief  pictures  of  Andrea  del  Sarto  are  to  be  found 
in  Florence.  In  the  Uffizi  palace  are  a  Madonna,  St. 
James,  and  two  portraits.  In  the  Pitti  palace  are  The  En- 
tombment, Holy  Family,  The  Story  of  Joseph,  Madonna 
in  Glory,  Dispute  about  the  Trinity,  The  Assumption,  and 
St.  John  Baptist.  The  Accademia  delle  belle  Arti  has 
the  Four  Saints,  and  a  fresco.  The  Scalzo  contains  four- 
teen frescos.  St.  Annunziata  has  the  Birth  of  the  Virgin 
and  the  Madonna  of  the  Sack.  The  Convent  of  St.  Salvi 
contains  the  Last  Supper.  The  most  important  of  his 
other  pictures  are  the  Holy  Family,  Louvre,  Paris ;  Ma 
donna,  Berlin  Gallery ;  Sacrifice  of  Abraham,  Dresden  ; 
Holy  Family,  Dulwich,  England. 

In  his  Six  Months  in  Italy  Hillard  says  of  Andrea  del 


Another  Way  of  Love.  —  Apollo  and  the  Fates.     15 

Sarto's  works  in  the  Pitti  palace  :  "  This  gallery  is  rich  in 
the  productions  of  Andrea  del  Sarto,  a  very  pleasing  artist, 
who  came  very  near  being  a  great  one.  He  is  a  decided 
mannerist.  His  pictures  have  the  strongest  family  likeness, 
and  even  the  dresses  of  his  Virgins  seem  all  to  have  been 
cut  from  the  same  piece  of  cloth."  In  his  Italian  Note- 
books Hawthorne  says  of  the  same  pictures  :  "  There  is  too 
large  an  admixture  of  Andrea  del  Sarto's  pictures  in  this 
gallery :  everywhere  you  see  them,  cold,  proper,  and  un- 
criticisable,  looking  so  much  like  first-rate  excellence,  that 
you  inevitably  quarrel  with  your  own  taste  for  not  admiring 
them." 

On  the  other  hand,  in  his  Essays  and  Studies,  Swinburne 
highly  praises  the  frescoes  in  St.  Annunziata.  Of  The 
Birth  of  the  Virgin  in  the  same  collection  Crowe  and 
Cavalcaselle  say  that  it  is  "  on  the  highest  level  ever  reached 
in  fresco."  Writing  of  the  Holy  Family  in  the  Pitti  pal- 
ace, Swinburne  says  :  "  At  Florence  only  can  one  trace  and 
tell  how  great  a  painter  and  how  various  Andrea  was. 
There  only,  but  surely  there,  can  the  spirit  and  presence  of 
the  things  of  time  on  his  immortal  spirit  be  understood." 

See  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  Albert  Fleming, 
number  eight,  2 :  9,  for  an  interpretation  of  the  poem. 

A  photographic  copy  of  Andrea  del  Sarto's  picture  has 
been  published  by  the  London  Browning  Society.  A  sketch 
of  Andrea's  life,  with  a  wood-cut  copy  of  the  picture,  is 
given  in  the  Woman's  World  for  April,  1890. 

Another  Way  of  Love.  See  One  Way  of  Love,  to 
which  this  poem  is  the  sequel. 

Any  Wife  to  Any  Husband.  Men  and  Women,  in 
1855 ;  Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

The  speaker  is  a  woman  about  to  die,  who  is  addressing 
her  husband.  They  have  loved  each  other  deeply ;  but  the 
wife  realizes  that  her  presence  is  necessary  to  the  perfect 
continuance  of  her  husband's  affection.  When  she  is  gone 
he  will  seek  other  women,  whereas  she  will  remain  forever 
true  to  him,  and  would  do  so  if  he  were  to  die  first.  See 
essay  on  the  love  poems  in  John  T.  Nettleship's  On  Robert 
Browning :  JSssays  and  Thoughts. 

Apollo  and  the  Pates.  Prologue  to  Parleyings  with 
Certain  People  of  Importance  in  Their  Day,  1887. 


16  Apollo  and  the  Fates. 

The  reference  to  the  Hymn  to  Hermes,  attributed  to 
Homer ;  the  Eumenides,  or  Furies,  of  ^Eschylus ;  and  the 
Alcestis  of  Euripides,  indicate  the  authorities  for  the  char- 
acter of  Apollo  given  in  this  short  dramatic  poem.  The 
reference  to  Homer  may  be  supplied  in  the  translation  of 
George  Chapman,  extending  the  quotation  somewhat  beyond 
that  indicated  by  the  poet. 

"  There  dwell 

Within  a  crooked  cranny,  in  a  dell 
Beneath  Parnassus,  certain  sisters  born, 
Called  Parcse,  -whom  extreme  swift  wings  adorn ; 
Their  number  three,  that  have  upon  their  heads 
White  barley-flour  still  sprinkled,  and  are  maids ; 
And  these  are  schoolmistresses  of  things  to  come, 
Without  the  gift  of  prophecy.     Of  whom 
(Being  but  a  boy,  and  keeping  oxen  near) 
I  learned  their  skill,  though  my  great  Father  were 
Careless  of  it,  or  them.     These  flying  from  home 
To  others'  roofs,  and  fed  with  honeycomb, 
Command  all  skill,  and  (being  enraged  then) 
Will  freely  tell  the  truths  of  things  to  men. 
But  if  they  give  them  not  that  God's  sweet  meat, 
They  then  are  apt  to  utter  their  deceit, 
And  lead  men  from  their  way." 

The  reference  to  the  Eumenides  may  be  supplied  with 
the  help  of  Plumptre's  translation. 

"  This  didst  thon  also  in  the  house  of  Pheres, 
Winning  the  Fates  to  make  a  man  immortal. 
Thou  hast  o'erthrown,  yea,  thou,  laws  hoar  with  age, 
And  drugged  with  wine  the  ancient  Goddesses." 

Potter's  translation  will  indicate  the  reference  to  the  Al- 
cestis, by  expanding  its  limits.  Apollo  says,  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  drama  :  — 

"  The  son  of  Pheres ;   him  from  death  I  saved, 
The  Fates  beguiling." 

Then  Orcus  replies  :  — 

"  Thou  dost  wrong,  again 

The  infernal  realms  defrauding  of  their  honors, 
Torn  from  them,  or  delayed.     Sufficed  it  not 
To  have  snatched  Admetus  from  his  doom,  the  Fates 
With  fraudful  arts  deluding  ?  " 

In  the  Alcestis,  at  the  opening  of  the  tragedy,  Apollo  se- 
cures a  respite  for  Admetus,  on  condition  that  some  one  will 
die  in  his  stead.  Euripides  does  not  relate  how  Apollo  wins 


Apparent  Failure.  17 

this  privilege  from  the  Fates.  Mr.  Browning  undertakes 
to  supply  that  defect. 

Apollo  descends  to  the  under-world,  and  asks  that  the 
years  of  Admetus  may  be  extended.  The  Fates  refuse, 
call  Apollo  hard  names,  and  say  it  is  better  for  man  to  have 
few  days.  Apollo  says  that  man  really  craves  for  long  life ; 
but  the  Fates  will  make  no  concession.  Then  Apollo  offers 
them  wine ;  they  resist  its  temptation  for  a  time,  but  finally 
yield,  arid  immediately  on  drinking  feel  its  inspiring  effects. 
Then  Apollo  discourses  of  man,  his  mingled  woe  and  weal, 
and  his  life  under  the  guidance  of  reason.  The  Fates  are 
not  convinced,  but  Apollo  shows  how  man's  life  is  capable 
of  goodness,  and  how  its  defeat  really  becomes  a  triumph. 
The  Fates  say  it  is  not  theirs  to  make  the  law  of  man's  life ; 
that  they  accomplish  what  is  willed  by  the  Higher  Powers. 
Apollo  begs  for  Admetus,  when  the  Fates  concede  him 
longer  life  on  condition  that  some  other  person  take  his 
place.  Apollo  declares  that  many  will  be  glad  to  make  the 
sacrifice.  The  Fates  laugh  at  this  suggestion ;  but  Apollo 
assures  them  that  Admetus  will  die  rather  than  accept  such 
an  exchange,  that  he  will  spurn  it  as  a  thing  unworthy. 

See  Nettlpship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  and  The  Brown- 
ing Society's  Papers,  number  nine,  2 :  169,  paper  by  Ar- 
thur Symons. 

Apparent  Failure.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

When  Browning  was  once  passing  through  Paris,  the 
Morgue,  a  small  Doric  building  on  one  of  the  quays,  was 
about  to  be  destroyed,  as  announced  in  a  city  newspaper. 
He  wrote  this  poem  with  the  purpose  of  saving  the  build- 
ing. He  relates  in  the  poem  what  he  had  seen  in  the 
Morgue  seven  years  before,  in  the  summer  of  1856,  when 
he  was  in  the  city  to  witness  the  baptism  of  Prince  Louis 
Napoleon,  only  child  of  Napoleon  III.,  Emperor  of  France. 
As  he  was  walking  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  he  thought 
of  the  Congress  of  the  European  Powers  then  being  held  in 
the  city  with  reference  to  the  freedom  and  unity  of  Italy,  in 
which  a  prominent  part  was  taken  by  Prince  Gortschakoff, 
the  Russian  minister  of  foreign  affairs ;  Cavour,  the  great 
Italian  statesman,  then  prime  minister  of  Piedmont ;  and 
Count  Buol,  the  Austrian  minister  of  foreign  affairs.  Ca- 
vour sought  to  interest  the  Powers  in  behalf  of  Italy,  but 


18  Apparitions.  —  Arcades  Ambo. 

Buol  opposed  any  intervention.  As  the  poet  meditated  on 
these  affairs  of  state,  he  entered  the  Morgue,  and  saw  three 
bodies  awaiting  identification.  The  men  whose  bodies  were 
thus  exposed  had  committed  suicide  by  drowning,  one  from 
ambition,  one  becaused  he  despaired  of  the  realization  of 
the  socialist  ideal,  and  one  from  love.  The  poem  closes 
with  an  emphatic  declaration  of  faith  in  there  being  an- 
other opportunity  for  such  men  as  these,  in  the  life  to  come. 
The  line  in  the  second  stanza  on  Petrarch's  Vaucluse  is  ex- 
plained by  Corson :  ''  Fontaine  de  Vaucluse,  a  celebrated 
fountain,  in  the  department  of  Vaucluse,  in  Southern 
France,  the  source  of  the  Sorgue.  The  village  named 
after  it  was  for  some  time  the  residence  of  Petrarch." 

Apparitions.  The  introduction  or  proem  to  The  Two 
Poets  of  Croisic  was  printed  in  the  second  series  of  Selec- 
tions made  from  his  poems  by  Browning,  1880,  under  this 
title.  Set  to  music  by  Sig.  F.  Tetaldi ;  published  by  London 
Browning  Society.  Also  set  to  music  by  E.  C.  Gregory. 
London :  Novello,  Ewer  &  Co.  Also  by  Miss  Helen  A. 
Clarke.  Philadelphia :  Poet- Lore  Co. ;  the  same  in  Poet- 
Lore  for  May,  1890. 

Appearances.     Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Ppems,  1876. 

The  speaker  is  a  man  who  is  addressing  the  woman  he 
loves.  He  has  brought  her  from  a  poorly  furnished  room 
to  one  beautifully  adorned  ;  and  she  is  full  of  praise.  He 
prefers  the  old  room,  because  it  was  there  she  had  plighted 
troth  to  him.  The  poem  takes  its  title  from  the  man  not 
caring  for  the  appearance  of  the  room  so  much  as  for  the 
love  which  he  has  found  in  it,  while  the  woman  is  much  in- 
fluenced by  the  externals  of  her  situation,  and  this  fact  tends 
to  lower  the  quality  of  her  love. 

Aprile.  In  Paracelsus,  an  Italian  poet  who  wishes  to 
love,  and  as  exclusively  as  Paracelsus  aspires  to  know.  He 
represents  the  emotions  as  Paracelsus  represents  reason. 
He  is  a  being  of  feeling  and  of  passionate  yearnings  for 
affection.  He  fails  because  he  cultivates  only  the  emotional 
side  of  his  life. 

Arcades  Ambo.     Asolando,  1889. 

This  poem  is  an  argument  against  vivisection.  Dr.  Ber- 
doe  says  it  is  "  a  delicate  satire  on  the  cowardice  of  those 
who  advocate  vivisection  on  the  ground  of  its  utility  in  medi- 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  19 

cine.  The  poet  says  that  the  man  who  would  have  animals 
tortured  for  the  relief  of  his  own  pain  is  as  great  a  poltroon 
as  the  soldier  who  runs  away  in  battle  when  the  balls  fly 
about.  Both  shun  death,  and  both  are  cowards  to  be 
scorned.  Some  persons  affect  to  see  in  this  attitude  of  the 
poet  proof  that  he  was  not  imbued  with  the  scientific  spirit ; 
that  his  early  religious  training  and  connections  had  made 
him  afraid  of  science  ;  but  surely  a  man  is  no  more  expected 
to  follow  science  blindfold  than  to  adopt  the  same  behavior 
toward  all  the  claims  made  for  blind  adhesion  in  the  name 
of  religion.  It  would  appear,  though,  that  science  can  be 
quite  as  exacting  as  religion  in  her  claims  for  the  entire 
allegiance  of  her  followers.  Mr.  Browning  resented  the 
arrogance  of  both.  His  anti-vivisection  sympathies  were  no 
mere  philanthropic  "  fads,"  no  mere  amiable  fancy  adopted 
by  chance,  or  arising  simply  from  kindness  of  heart.  They 
were  demanded  by  his  ethical  system,  and  were  the  direct 
outcome  of  his  philosophy  of  life.  Love  is  the  one  word 
which  sums  up  his  moral  teaching  ;  love  to  God  reflected  in 
the  service  of  man.  To  have  excluded  anything  which 
lives  and  suffers  from  the  influence  of  this  love,  would  have 
offered  violence  to  the  principles  which  animated  every  line 
of  his  works,  from  Pauline  to  Asolando."  See  Browning's 
Message  to  his  Time,  by  Edward  Berdoe. 

Aristophanes'  Apology.  Published  in  1875,  by  Smith, 
Elder  and  Co.,  London.  It  bears  the  title  in  full  of  Aristo- 
phanes' Apology,  including  a  Transcript  from  Euripides, 
being  the  Last  Adventure  of  Balaustion.  The  transcript 
from  Euripides  is  a  translation  of  the  Herakles  Mainome- 
nos  or  Raging  Hercules  of  that  tragic  poet.  Pages,  i.-viii., 
1-366 ;  Herakles,  209-327. 

This  poem  is  a  sequel  to  Balaustioris  Adventure.  It  con- 
tains the  story  of  her  life  until  after  the  capture  of  Athens 
by  Sparta  and  her  allies  ;  and  it  relates  how  she  came  to  re- 
turn to  Rhodes.  Euripides  is  still  her  hero,  and  the  poem 
compares  him  with  Aristophanes.  In  the  first  adventure 
Euripides  saved  her  life  and  the  lives  of  her  companions  ; 
in  this  poem  he  saves  Athens  from  utter  destruction.  Aris- 
tophanes is  introduced  as  the  antagonist  of  Euripides,  and 
as  seeking  to  defend  his  own  dramatic  methods.  The  poem 
is  crowded  with  learning ;  and  the  life  of  the  time  in  most 


20  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

of  its  phases  is  brought  before  us.  The  poem  is  in  a  large 
degree  a  study  of  Aristophanes  and  his  poetry. 

Aristophanes  belonged  to  the  conservative  party  in  Athens, 
the  party  which  desired  the  return  of  "the  good  old  times." 
He  opposed  Socrates,  Euripides,  and  the  other  progressive 
men  of  his  day,  ridiculed  them,  and  cast  contempt  on  their 
opinions.  He  threw  contempt  on  the  new  social  theories  of 
the  time,  in  the  interest  of  a  conservative  and  reactionary 
policy.  He  especially  attacked  the  new  theories  about  wo- 
men, which  seem  to  have  been  rife  among  the  radical 
thinkers  of  the  day.  His  view  of  life  was  not  serious,  but 
comic ;  he  represented  the  natural  instincts  of  man,  and  joy 
in  the  senses. 

Mr.  J.  A.  Symonds  says  he  is  the  greatest  comic  poet  of 
the  world.  His  plays  are  vast  scenic  allegories  or  farces 
of  Titanic  purpose.  They  are  "  fantastic  entertainments, 
debauches  of  reason  and  imagination."  They  are  "a  ra- 
diant and  pompous  show,  by  which  the  genius  of  the  Greek 
race  chose,  as  it  were  in  bravado,  to  celebrate  an  apotheosis 
of  the  animal  functions  of  humanity."  He  brings  to  light 
the  nudeness  of  human  life,  and  what  is  usually  hid  ;  no 
passion  is  too  vile,  no  instinct  too  indelicate,  according  to 
our  notions,  for  him  to  introduce  it  into  his  comedies.  He 
had  wit,  imagination,  and  comic  power  in  a  supreme  degree  ; 
and  he  used  these  in  a  robust  and  vigorous  manner.  He  was 
brilliant,  versatile,  and  original ;  and  yet  he  had  the  gift  of 
turning  everything  into  an  occasion  for  laughter  and  fun. 
How  far  his  laughter  had  a  serious  purpose  in  satire  and 
criticism,  it  is  not  possible  to  say.  He  made  sport  of  Socra- 
tes, and  yet  he  was  a  member  of  the  Socratic  circle  and  the 
friend  of  Socrates. 

Much  diversity  of  opinion  exists  as  to  the  political  aims 
of  Aristophanes.  Thirl  wall,  M  tiller,  and  many  others, 
think  he  was  sound  in  principle  and  purpose,  and  that  he 
stood  against  tendencies  that  were  corrupting  and  revolution- 
ary. On  the  other  hand,  Grote  condemns  him  as  the  worst 
enemy  of  his  city,  a  reckless  conservative  and  a  mischievous 
enemy  of  its  best  men.  Mr.  Symonds  takes  a  middle  course 
between  these  two,  and  thinks  the  great  comic  poet  was 
right  in  purpose,  but  often  wrong  in  his  methods. 

The  comedies   of  Aristophanes  have  been  described   as 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  21 

"  madness  methodized  and  with  a  sober  meaning."  Grote 
regards  Aristophanes  as  a  man  who  excited  the  worst  pas- 
sions of  the  Athenians,  and  who  did  all  he  could  to  lead  his 
countrymen  astray  morally.  Others  see  in  him  a  great 
ethical  teacher,  with  a  high  and  pure  purpose  ;  but  this  view 
has  little  to  support  it.  All  that  was  vigorous  in  the  natu- 
ralism of  the  Greeks  he  helped  to  foster ;  and  his  naturalism 
was  of  the  most  open  and  unconscious  kind. 

The  Herakles  is  quite  literally  turned  into  English,  on  the 
same  lines  of  transcription  of  those  set  forth  in  the  preface 
to  the  Agamemnon.  In  Mahaffy's  Greek  Literature,  and 
also  in  his  Euripides,  may  be  found  a  helpful  analysis  of 
the  play,  and  an  outline  of  its  plot.  In  the  first  of  these 
works,  the  author  says :  "  We  can  now  recommend  the 
admirable  translation  in  Mr.  Browning's  Aristophanes' 
Apology,  as  giving  English  readers  a  thoroughly  faithful 
idea  of  this  splendid  play.  The  choral  odes  are,  moreover, 
done  justice  to,  and  translated  into  adequate  metre."  In 
the  latter  work  he  mentions  Mr.  Browning's  "  admirable 
version,  which  is  so  striking  in  its  combination  of  two  sub- 
jects that  it  almost  deserves  to  be  called  a  drama  of  plot." 

An  excellent  study  of  Aristophanes  and  his  works  will  be 
found  in  Mahaffy's  History  of  Greek  Literature.  A  more 
extended  but  less  valuable  work  is  Collins'  Aristophanes, 
in  the  series  of  Ancient  Classics  for  English  Readers. 
Kennedy's  translation  of  the  Birds  has  a  valuable  intro- 
duction, which  will  be  found  to  give  much  important  aid  in 
understanding  the  life  and  works  of  Aristophanes.  The 
best  study  of  Aristophanes  and  his  works  is  contained  in 
Symonds'  Studies  of  the  Greek  Poets,  first  series,  in  which 
his  literary  characteristics  are  presented  in  a  most  interest- 
ing and  suggestive  manner.  This  last  essay,  together  with 
that  in  the  same  volume  on  Euripides,  will  be  found  very 
helpful  in  rounding  out  the  view  of  these  poets  presented  by 
Mr.  Browning.  Mr.  Symonds  more  fully  treats  some  phases 
of  the  subject  than  it  was  possible  for  Mr.  Browning  to  do 
in  his  poem,  and  he  comes  very  near  the  truth  in  his  estimate 
of  Aristophanes,  both  as  a  poet  and  in  his  relations  to 
morality. 

In  order  fully  to  comprehend  Browning's  poem,  it  is  nec- 
essary to  know  the  history  of  Athens  in  the  period  of  its 


22  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

greatest  power,  and  just  before  its  downfall.  It  is  also 
necessary  to  understand  the  history  of  the  drama  in  Athens, 
the  origin  and  growth  of  comedy,  and  the  relations  of  Aris- 
tophanes to  all  the  phases  of  the  life  of  his  time.  Milller's 
History  of  the  Literature  of  Ancient  Greece  will  be  found 
of  much  value  in  making  such  a  study,  as  will  also  Donald- 
son's Theater  of  the  Greeks.  A  later  and  very  suggestive 
work  is  Moulton's  Ancient  Classical  Drama. 

The  whole  poem  is  a  discussion  of  the  comparative  merits, 
not  only  of  Euripides  and  Aristophanes,  and  of  tragedy  and 
comedy,  but  of  the  ideal  and  the  real  in  literature.  On  the 
merits  of  this  discussion  Mr.  Mahaffy  says,  in  his  Greek 
Literature,  that  Browning  "has  treated  the  controversy 
between  Euripides  and  Aristophanes  with  more  learning 
and  ability  than  all  other  critics,  in  his  Aristophanes' 
Apology,  which  is  an  Euripides'  Apology  also,  if  such  be 
required  at  the  present  day." 

Browning  evidently  made  an  extensive  use  of  the  scholi- 
asts or  Greek  commentators  on  Aristophanes,  in  the  writing 
of  this  poem.  Among  those  who  have  thus  added  to  our 
knowledge  of  Aristophanes  and  his  work  may  be  mentioned 
Plutarch,  Callimachus,  Aristarchus,  Crates,  Didymus,  Sym- 
machus,  and  many  later  writers.  These  comments  have 
been  edited  by  Dindorf  and  Diibner,  and  works  upon  them 
have  been  published  by  Schneider,  Ritschl,  and  Keil. 

A  scene  from  Plato's  Symposium,  as  translated  by  Pro- 
fessor Jowett,  will  give  the  clue  to  the  scene  when  Aristo- 
phanes bursts  into  the  house  of  Balaustion  and  her  hus- 
band. "  Agathon  arose,"  says  Plato,  "  in  order  that  he 
might  take  his  place  on  the  couch  of  Socrates,  when  sud- 
denly a  band  of  revelers  entered,  and  spoiled  the  order  of 
the  banquet.  Some  one  who  was  going  out  having  left  the 
door  open,  they  had  found  their  way  in.  and  made  themselves 
at  home.  Great  confusion  ensued,  and  every  one  was  com- 
pelled to  drink  large  quantities  of  wine.  Aristodemus  said 
that  Eryxemachus,  Phaedrus  and  others  went  away.  He 
himself  fell  asleep,  and,  as  the  nights  were  long,  took  a 
good  rest.  He  was  awakened  towards  daybreak  by  a  crow- 
ing of  cocks,  and  when  he  awoke,  the  others  either  were 
asleep  or  had  gone  away.  There  remained  only  Socrates, 
Aristophanes,  and  Agathou,  who  were  drinking  out  of  a 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  23 

large  goblet,  which  they  passed  round,  and  Socrates  was 
discoursing  to  them.  Aristodemus  did  not  hear  the  begin- 
ning of  the  discourse,  and  he  was  only  half  awake,  but  the 
chief  thing  which  he  remembered  was  Socrates  insisting  to 
the  other  two  that  the  genius  of  comedy  was  the  same  as 
that  of  tragedy,  and  that  the  writer  of  tragedy  ought  to  be 
a  writer  of  comedy  also.  To  this  they  were  compelled  to 
assent,  being  sleepy,  and  not  quite  understanding  his  mean- 
ing. And  first  of  all  Aristophanes  dropped  asleep,  and 
then,  when  the  day  was  already  dawning,  Agathon.  So- 
crates, when  he  had  put  them  to  sleep,  rose  to  depart,  Aris- 
todemus, as  his  manner  was,  following  him.  At  the  Lyceum 
he  took  a  bath,  and  passed  the  day  as  usual,  and  when  even- 
ing came,  he  retired  to  rest  at  his  own  house." 

Not  only  has  Browning  drawn  upon  such  descriptions  as 
this,  but  he  has  employed  an  actual  historical  incident  as 
the  basis  of  his  poem.  Athens  was  saved  by  Euripides. 
When  the  war  had  been  brought  to  an  end  by  the  Spartan 
capture  of  Athens,  the  conquerer,  Lysander,  decreed  the 
destruction  of  the  long  walls.  The  doom  of  utter  ruin, 
however,  was  prevented  by  the  skillful  use  of  one  of  the 
songs  of  Euripides.  This  incident  is  drawn  from  Plutarch's 
biography  of  Lysander,  the  Spartan  general.  Browning 
identifies  the  man  of  Phokis  mentioned  there  with  Euthu- 
kles.  This  Phokian  saved  the  city  by  his  appeal  to  the 
Greek  love  of  lofty  poetic  sentiments.  Plutarch,  as  trans- 
lated by  Clough,  says  :  — 

"  Lysander,  as  soon  as  he  had  taken  all  the  ships  except 
twelve,  and  the  walls  of  the  Athenians,  on  the  sixteenth 
day  of  the  month  Munychion,  the  same  on  which  they  had 
overcome  the  barbarians  at  Salamis,  then  proceeded  to  take 
measures  for  altering  the  government.  But  the  Athenians 
taking  that  very  unwillingly  and  resisting,  he  sent  to  the 
people  and  informed  them  that  he  found  that  the  city  had 
broken  the  terms,  for  the  walls  were  standing  when  the 
days  were  past  within  which  they  should  have  been  pulled 
down.  He  should  therefore  consider  their  case  anew,  they 
having  broken  their  first  articles.  And  some  state,  in  fact, 
the  proposal  was  made  in  the  congress  of  the  allies,  that  the 
Athenians  should  all  be  sold  as  slaves ;  on  which  occasion, 
Erianthus,  the  Theban,  gave  his  vote  to  pull  down  the  city, 


24  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

and  turn  the  country  into  sheep-pasture ;  yet  afterwards, 
when  there  was  a  meeting  of  the  captains  together,  a  man 
of  Phocis,  singing  the  first  chorus  in  Euripides'  Mlectra, 
which  begins, 

'  Electra,  Agamemnon's  child,  I  come 
Unto  thy  desert  home,' 

they  were  all  melted  with  compassion,  and  it  seemed  to  be 
a  cruel  deed  to  destroy  and  pull  down  a  city  which  had 
been  so  famous,  and  produced  such  men. 

"  Accordingly  Lysander,  the  Athenians  yielding  up  every- 
thing, sent  for  a  number  of  flute-women  out  of  the  city,  and 
collected  together  all  that  were  in  the  camp,  and  pulled 
down  the  walls,  and  burned  the  ships  to  the  sound  of  the 
flute ;  the  allies  being  crowned  with  garlands,  and  making 
merry  together,  as  counting  that  day  the  beginning  of  their 
liberty.  He  proceeded  also  at  once  to  alter  the  govern- 
ment, placing  thirty  rulers  in  the  city,  and  ten  in  the 
Peirreus ;  he  put  also  a  garrison  into  the  Acropolis,  and 
made  Callibius,  a  Spartan,  the  governor  of  it." 

Mr.  J.  A.  Symonds,  in  The  Academy  for  April  17, 1875, 
devotes  a  long  article  to  this  poem.  After  giving  an  out- 
line of  the  story,  he  says  that  this  is  the  setting  which  "Mr. 
Browning  has  invented  for  one  of  the  strongest  poems  he 
has  ever  written,  for  one  of  the  most  brilliant  tours  de  force 
of  English  verse.  A  more  ingenious  or  more  felicitous 
framework  could  not  be  imagined  ;  all  the  motives  are  well 
chosen,  probable,  dramatic ;  nor  is  it  possible  sufficiently  to 
praise  the  adroitness  with  which  the  poet  has  seized  on 
every  scrap  of  history,  on  every  tag  of  antiquarian  gossip, 
which  could  serve  his  purpose.  The  poem  literally  bursts 
with  erudition,  containing,  as  it  does,  the  stuff  for  many 
dissertations  on  the  origin  and  object  of  Greek  comedy,  on 
the  causes  of  Athenian  decay,  on  the  proper  estimate  of 
Euripides  as  a  tragic  poet,  on  Greek  dancing  girls,  and  last, 
not  least,  upon  the  Kottabos.  Yet  this  learning  is  lightly 
borne ;  it  scarcely  can  be  said  to  overlay  the  presentation 
of  the  two  chief  personages,  or  to  distract  attention  from 
the  subject  of  their  long  debate.  The  aim  of  the  poem  be- 
ing really  the  glorification  of  Euripides,  the  moment  selected 
for  Balaustion's  improvisation,  when  Athens  has  just  fallen, 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  25 

only  escaping  utter  ruin  through  a  song  from  the  Elektra, 
is  sensationally  appropriated.  By  identifying  the  man  of 
Phokis,  mentioned  in  Plutarch's  life  of  Lysander,  with  his 
own  Euthukles,  Mr.  Browning  rings  and  rounds  his  whole 
romance  within  a  sphere  of  plausibility.  Euripides,  abused 
by  the  comic  poet  as  the  destroyer  of  his  country,  is  now 
shown  to  have  stayed  the  conqueror's  hand ;  while  the  flute- 
girls,  feigned  by  Mr.  Browning  to  be  the  veritable  crew  of 
Aristophanes,  pipe  their  best  and  dance  their  worst  all 
through  the  pulling  down  of  the  long  walls. 

"  The  use  made  of  the  advantages  offered  by  these  paral- 
lels and  contrasts  is  superb.  As  a  sophist  and  a  rhetorician 
of  poetry,  Mr.  Browning  proves  himself  unrivaled,  and 
takes  rank  with  the  best  writers  of  historical  romances. 
Yet  students  may  fairly  accuse  him  of  some  special  plead- 
ing in  favor  of  his  friends,  and  against  his  foes.  It  is  true 
that  Aristophanes  did  not  bring  back  again  the  golden  days 
of  Greece ;  true  that  his  comedy  revealed  a  corruption  la- 
tent in  Athenian  life.  But  neither  was  Euripides  in  any 
sense  a  savior.  Impartiality  regards  them  both  as  equally 
destructive ;  Aristophanes,  because  he  indulged  animalism 
and  praised  ignorance  in  an  age  which  ought  to  have  out- 
grown both ;  Euripides,  because  he  criticised  the  whole  fab- 
ric of  Greek  thought  and  feeling  in  an  age  which  had  not 
yet  distinguished  between  analysis  and  skepticism. 

"  What  has  just  been  said  about  Mr.  Browning's  special 
pleading  indicates  the  chief  fault  to  be  found  with  his  poem. 
The  point  of  view  is  modern.  The  situation  is  strained. 
Aristophanes  becomes  the  scape-goat  of  Athenian  sins,  while 
Euripides  shines  forth  a  saint  as  well  as  a  sage.  Balaus- 
tion,  for  her  part,  beautiful  as  her  conception  truly  is,  takes 
up  a  position  which  even  Plato  could  not  have  assumed. 
Into  her  mouth  Mr.  Browning  has  put  the  views  of  the 
most  searching  and  most  sympathetic  modern  analyst.  She 
judges  Euripides,  not  as  he  appeared  to  his  own  Greeks, 
but  as  he  strikes  the  warmest  of  admirers  who  compare  hU 
work  with  that  of  all  the  poets  who  have  ever  lived.  No 
account  is  taken  of  his  tiresome  quibblings  and  long-winded 
repartees,  his  moral  hair-splitting  and  sophistry,  the  shift- 
ing of  his  point  of  view  about  such  characters  as  Helen, 
We,  indeed,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  can  overlook  these 


26  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

blemishes,  while  we  dwell  on  qualities  which  make  him 
third  among  the  sons  of  Attic  song.  But  in  the  eyes  of  the 
Greeks  they  were  far  otherwise  important.  The  ribaldry 
of  Aristophanes,  which  seems  to  us  disgusting,  and  on  which 
Mr.  Browning  insists  with  a  satire  at  once  delicate  and 
scathing,  was  not  more  corrosive  of  good  breeding  and  high 
tone. 

"  Though  it  seems  to  me  that  Mr.  Browning  has  credited 
Balaustion  with  views  in  advance  of  her  civilization,  he  can- 
not be  said  to  have  violated  dramatic  propriety.  It  is  just 
that  Balaustion,  saved  by  the  rheseis  of  Alkestis,  and  Eu- 
thukles,  savior  of  Athens  through  Elektra  —  the  very  priest 
and  priestess  of  Euripides  —  should  confront  their  comic 
adversary  in  this  lofty  strain.  And,  what  is  more,  the  poet 
of  our  age  has  obeyed  a  right  instinct  in  making  a  woman, 
and  such  an  inspired  woman  as  Balaustion,  his  mouthpiece. 
Of  women  in  Greece  we  know,  indeed,  next  to  nothing. 
But  nature  tells  us  that  women,  all  the  world  over,  have 
finer  moral  perceptions  than  men ;  and  Balaustion,  be  it 
said  in  passing,  is  worthy  to  be  placed  besides  Pompilia. 

"  The  contrast  between  this  high-spirited  woman,  wor- 
shiper of  Euripides  the  sage,  wife  of  Euthukles  her  own 
amanuensis,  who  darts  forth  withering  epigrams  at  need  ; 
and  Aristophanes,  the  blustering,  wine-swollen,  blatant  mon- 
arch of  the  comic  scene,  who  rolls  into  her  room,  is  highly 
entertaining.  Not  less  picturesque  is  the  contrast  between 
the  quiet  home  of  Balaustion,  with  its  oratory  raised  beneath 
the  portrait  of  the  freckle-faced  poet  —  cool,  tranquil  —  and 
the  flame-faced  revels  of  the  Bohemian  supper  party,  with 
Aristophanes  for  Bacchus,  and  '  Phaps '  for  Aphrodite. 
The  whole  poem,  it  may  be  said,  abounds  in  contrasts. 
They  detonate  at  every  turn,  indeed,  like  crackers,  rather 
to  the  detriment  of  true  artistic  calm. 

"  Mr.  Browning  has  shown  his  mastery  by  painting  both 
portraits,  Balaustion  and  Aristophanes,  with  equal  force. 
His  Aristophanes  is  no  vulgar  caricature.  Though  the 
English  poet  hates  him  for  his  foulness,  loathes  him  for  his 
lies,  and  scorns  his  shabby  tricks  of  trade  and  catchpenny 
calumnies,  he  does  not  fail  to  appreciate  the  demiurgic 
power,  the  creative  energy,  and  the  splendid  imagination  of 
the  author  of  the  Clouds.  Aristophanes  is  drawn  like  a 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  27 

primeval  demon,  a  Titan  —  Typhoeus  or  Enceladus  —  at 
war  with  some  new  Zeus,  whom  he  contemns,  but  who  is 
born  of  Fate's  decree  to  conquer.  The  flash  and  flame  and 
force  of  genius,  whereby  this  conception  of  Aristophanes  is 
sustained,  overpower  all  criticism.  It  is  only  after  laying 
down  the  book  and  thinking  over  it,  that  we  discover  what 
is  wanting  —  the  aerial  beauty  which  belonged  to  the  true 
Aristophanes,  the  delicate  drollery  which  Plato  has  por- 
trayed in  the  Symposium.  Mr.  Browning's  Aristophanes 
roars  and  ramps,  and  snorts  and  bullies,  and  dominates  us 
with  subtlety  of  intellect  and  strength  of  lung.  But  where 
in  the  hundreds  of  lines  which  he  pours  forth  can  we  detect 
the  teacher  of  the  chorus  of  the  Clouds,  the  singer  of  the 
Birds  in  their  Parabasis  ?  He  is  truly  finest,  and  most  art- 
fully depicted,  in  the  passage  which  describes  his  feelings 
when  the  news  of  Euripides'  death  reached  him  in  the  midst 
of  his  symposium.  Mr.  Browning  soars  to  a  dramatic  climax 
in  this  masterpiece  of  powerful  delineation. 

"  Meanwhile  his  Euripides  is  far  withdrawn  and  shadowy, 
a  philosophic  phantom,  dear  to  all  initiated  souls,  the 
burgher  of  no  earthly  city,  the  believer  in  no  earthly  gods 
of  Greece,  but  the  beloved  of  God.  He  speaks,  at  great 
length,  in  his  own  Jferakles,  which  Balaustion,  with  a  wo- 
man's privilege,  pours  down  the  ears  of  half-drunk  Aristo- 
phanes. But  while  his  comic  antagonist  is  so  carefully  dis- 
played, like  a  cantharus  upon  the  cork  of  an  entomologist, 
the  tragic  poet,  assumed  to  be  a  far  superior  being,  is  only 
reflected  on  the  mirror  of  Balaustion's  womanly  mind. 
Here  again  we  find  dramatic  propriety  of  the  first  water. 
Balaustion  is  speaking.  She  cannot  but  presuppose  the 
supremacy  of  her  adopted  saint.  .  .  . 

"  As  is  the  case  with  all  Mr.  Browning's  work,  however, 
the  subject-matter  of  Aristoplumes1  Apology  serves  as  a 
schema  for  conveying  something  far  more  universal  than 
appears  upon  the  surface.  That  old  quarrel  between 
Tragedy  and  Comedy  at  Athens,  which  he  has  resuscitated, 
has  long  ago  been  settled.  It  was  never  so  important,  per- 
haps, as  he  would  have  us  think ;  for  what  are  poems  or 
poets,  after  all,  but  signs  and  symbols  of  a  nation's  culture  ? 
The  accurate  scholarship  and  vivid  local  coloring  which 
make  this  poem  priceless  to  a  student  will  repel  the  gen- 


28  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

eral  reader ;  and  all  of  us  may  cry  '  Connu  !  '  when  we  read 
the  prophecy  of  the  new  comic  art  which  shall  absorb  the 
tragic.  But  no  one  is  really  unconcerned  with  the  strife  of 
the  spirit  and  the  flesh,  idealized  humanity  and  life  materially 
apprehended,  which  underlies  the  shadow-duel  between  Ba- 
laustion  and  Aristophanes,  as  apprehended  by  Mr.  Brown- 
ing." 

Page  99.  Kore.     The  Greek  for  Virgin,  a  name  given 
to  PersephoneV 

101.  Dikast.    Judge.  —  Heliast.    A  juryman  in  Athens. 

—  Kordax-step.     An  indecent  dance.    "  A  species  of  dance 
which  no  Athenian  could  practice,   sober  and  unmasked, 
without  incurring  a  character  for  the  greatest  shameless- 
ness."     [Muller.] —  Propulaia  (Propylaia).     Gateway  of 
the  Acropolis.  —  Pnux  (Pnyx).     The  place  where  the  pop- 
ular assembly  met.  —  Bema.    The  elevated  place  where  the 
actors  stood  when  they  addressed   the   popular  assembly. 
Both  these  were  represented  in  the  Athenian  theatre. 

102.  Hermippos.      A  poet   of   the   Old   Comedy,    who 
satirized  Pericles  and  prosecuted  Aspasia.  —  Kratinos.     A 
poet  of  the  Old  Comedy,  the  rival  of  Aristophanes,  who  first 
made  the  drama  a  means  of  personal  satire :   519-423  B.  c. 

—  Makaria.    A  heroine  in  Euripides'  Hecuba,  who  dies  for 
the  salvation  of  her  brothers  and  sisters. 

103.  Phrunichos    (Phrynicus).     A  dramatic    poet   who 
made  the    capture  of   Miletus  the  subject    of   a   tragedy, 
"  which,  when  performed,  in  493,  so  painfully  wrung  the 
feelings  of  the  Athenian  audience  that  they  burst  into  tears 
in  the  theatre,  and  the  poet  was  condemned  to  pay  a  fine  of 
1,000  drachmae,  for  having  recalled  to  them  their  misfor- 
tunes."    [Grote.]     He  is  satirized  by  Aristophanes  in  the 
Frogs  for  his  method  of  introducing  his  characters.  —  Mi- 
lesian smart-place.     The  painful  remembrance  of  the  cap- 
ture of  Milesia  thus  referred  to.  —  Kresphontes.      One  of 
the  conquerors  of  Peloponnesus,  to  whom  Messenia  fell  as 
his  share. 

104.  Amphitheos.     One  of  the  characters  in  the  Achar- 
nians  of  Aristophanes,  a  being  not  godlike  and  yet  gifted 
with  immortality. 

105.  Stade.     The  stake  where  the  runner  stopped,  to 
return  to  his  starting-point.  —  Diaulos.      The  race-course 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  29 

with  its  double  track,  one  for  the  out-go,  and  one  for  the  re- 
turn.—  Hupsipule  (Hypsipyle).  The  queen  of  Lemnos,  on 
Jason's  expedition  in  search  of  the  golden  fleece.  —  Phoi- 
nissai  (Phcenissae).  A  tragedy  of  Euripides  about  the 
woes  of  the  family  of  QEdipus.  —  Zetlios.  A  son  of  Zeus 
and  Antiope,  at  Thebes,  and  a  brother  of  Amphion. 

106.  Phorminx.     A  kind  of  cithara  or  lyre,  the  oldest 
stringed  instrument  of  the  Greeks.  —  City  of  Gapers.     A 
name  given  to  Athens  on  account  of  the  excessive  curiosity  of 
its  people.  —  Glauketes.     Imaginary  person.  —  Morsimos. 
Imaginary  person.  —  Arginousai  (Arginusae).    Three  small 
islands  near  ^Eolis,  and  a  hundred  and  twenty  stadia  from 
Mitylene,  described  by  Strabo.  —  Mime.     A  performer  in 
the  mimic  dialogues  called  Mimes. 

107.  Lais  and  Leogoras.     Imaginary  persons.  —  Koppa- 
marked.     Race-horses  marked  with  the   old   letter  Koppa, 
which  indicated  the  best  breed.  —  Choinix.     A  measure.  — 
Thesmophoria.    A  festival  held  by  women  in  honor  of  Ceres 
and  Proserpine,   from  which  men  were   rigidly   excluded, 
and  which  was  made  by  Aristophanes  the  subject  of  one 
of  his  comedies.  —  Arridaios,  Krateues.     Minor  poets.  — 
Comic   Platon.  The  last  poet  of  the  Old  Comedy,  a  writer 
of  satirical  comedies.  —  Nikodikos.     Imaginary  person. 

108.  Phuromachos.   Military  leader. 

109.  Salabaccho.      The  name  of  a  famous  courtesan  of 
the  time  of  Aristophanes,  a  character  in  The  Knights. 

110.  Peiraios.    A  character  in  the  Odyssey,  son  of  Clytius 
of  Ithaca,  and  a  friend  of   Telemachus.  —  Alkamenes,  a 
king  of  Sparta,  mentioned  by  Herodotus  and  Pausanias. 

112.  Komos-cry.  In  the  Attic  drama,  the  song  sung  alter- 
nately by  the  chorus  and  an  actor,  and  especially  the  wail 
or  dirge  in  which  the  chorus  often  indulged.  "  Komos  sig- 
nifies a  revel  continued  after  supper.  It  was  a  very  ancient 
custom  in  Greece  for  young  men,  after  rising  from  an  even- 
ing banquet,  to  ramble  about  the  streets  to  the  sound  of  the 
flute  or  the  lyre,  and  with  torches  in  their  hands ;  such  a 
band  of  revelers  was  called  a  komos.  And  as  the  band  of 
revelers  not  unfrequently  made  a  riotous  entrance  into  any 
house  where  an  entertainment  was  going  on,  the  verb  is 
used  metaphorically  by  Plato  to  signify  any  interruption  or 
intrusion.  Hence  the  word  Komos  is  used  to  denote  any 


30  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

band  or  company.  In  a  secondary  sense,  it  signifies  a  song 
sung  either  by  a  convivial  party  or  at  the  Bacchic  feasts 
(not  merely  in  honor  of  the  god,  but  also  to  ridicule  cer- 
tain persons)  ;  or  lastly,  by  a  procession  in  honor  of  a  victor 
at  the  public  games."  [Donaldson.] 

114.  Cheekband.    A  band  worn  by  trumpeters  to  support 
the  cheeks.  —  Cuckoo-apple.     Make-believe  food.  —  Thret- 
tanelo.     A  sound  imitative  of  a  harp-string.  —  Neblaretai. 
A  sound  imitative  of  any  cry  of  joy.  —  Goafs-breakfast. 
Allusions    of  a  very  indecent   nature,  probably    connected 
with  the  early  history  of  the  drama,  and  the  worship  of 
Bacchus. 

115.  Curtail  expense.    The  cost  of  bringing  out  plays  was 
defrayed  by  the  city,  and  was  dependent  upon  the  money 
which  could  be  spared  for  that  purpose.  —  Three  days'  salt- 
fish-slice.     The   allowance  for  a  soldier  when  setting  out 
on  an  expedition,  after  which  he  was  to  forage  for  himself. 
—  Shams-ambassadors.     Characters  in  the  Acharnians.  — 
Kudathenaian.     Famous  Athenian.  —  Pandionid.    A  de- 
scendant of   Pandion,   King   of   Athens.  —  Choirilos.     A 
tragic  poet  of   Athens,    contemporary   with   Sophocles.  — 
Goat-song.    Tragedy  (tragoadia)  was  thus  called  because  a 
goat-skin,  filled  with  wine,  was  at  first  given  as  a  prize  on 
its  production.     Donaldson  says  tragoedia  could  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  the  goat,  nor  could  it  imply  that  the  goat 
was  the  object  of  the  song.     It  denotes  the  singer  whose 
words  are  accompanied  by  the  gesticulations  or  movements 
of  a  chorus  of  Satyrs,  or  a  comus  of  revelers. 

116.  Willow^wicker-flask.     A  nickname  for  a  poet  who 
makes  himself  a  toper. 

117.  Lyric  shell  or  tragic  barbiton.    The  lesser  and  the 
larger  lyre. 

118.  Sousarion.    A  poet  of  Megara,  who  is  said  to  have 
introduced   comedy  into   Athens   at  a  very  early  date.  — 
Chionides.     His  successor  in  the  development  of  comedy, 
and  called  by  Donaldson  the  first  writer  of  old  Athenian 
comedy. 

119.  Little-in-the-Fields.    A  Dionysian  feast,  but  not  so 
important  as  that  of  the  city. 

120.  Ameipsias.   A  comic  poet,  who  was  the  rival  of  Aris- 
tophanes. —  lostephanos.    A  name  of  Athens,  meaning  vio- 
let-crowned. 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  31 

121.  Kleophon.    A  demagogue  attacked  by  Aristophanes 
as  a  profligate,  an  enemy  of  peace,  and  a  man  of  bad  char- 
acter. —  Kleonumos.      Another    demagogue    attacked    by 
Aristophanes,  a  big   and   cowardly  fellow.  —  Melanthios. 
A  petty  tragic  poet,  a  descendant  of  JEschylus.  —  Paraba- 
sis.     That  part  of  the  Old  Tragedy,  not  connected  with  its 
main  action,  in  which  the  chorus  came   forward  and  ad- 
dressed the  audience  in  the  poet's  name.  —  Telekleides.    A 
poet  of  the  Old  Comedy  of  about  444  B.  c.  —  Murtilos, 
ffermippos,  Eupolis,  Kratinos.     Poets  contemporary  with 
the  great  writers  of  tragedy.  —  Mullos,  Euetes.     Revivers 
of  comedy  in  Athens  after  Sousarion. 

122.  Morucheides.     The  son  of  Morychus,  and  like  his 
father  a  glutton  and  a  comic  poet.  —  Surakosios.    A  comic 
poet. 

123.  Trilophos.  A  wearer  of  three  crests  on  his  helmets  ; 
this  passage  probably  refers  to  the  abandonment  of  the  aris- 
tocratic party  by  Alcibiades.  —  Ruppapai.  A  word  used  by 
a  crew  in  rowing,  which  came  to  mean  the  crew  itself. 

124.  Prutaneion  (Prytaneion).    A  free  dinner  was  given 
in  this  place,  at  the  expense  of  the  city,  to  the  leading  per- 
sons of  the  city.  —  Ariphrades.    An  infamous  character  at- 
tacked by  Aristophanes,  a  player  on  the  harp. 

125.  Karkinos.   A  comic  actor,  who  had  famous  dancing 
sons.  —  Exomis.  A  woman's  garment.  —  Parachoregema. 
The  subordinate  chorus,  when  the  principal  one  is  absent 
from  the  stage.  —  Aristullos.    A  bad  character,  satirized  by 
Aristophanes,  and  used  by  him  as  a  travesty  of  Plato.    The 
incident  is  mentioned  in  Plato's  Apology.  —  Mnesilochos. 
The  father  of  the  first  wife  of  Euripides,  one  of  the  char- 
acters in  the  Thesmophoriazusae.  —  Bald  Bard.    Aristo- 
phanes was  bald  at  an  early  age.  —  Murrhine,  Akalanthis. 
Female  names  in   Aristophanes'    comedy   called    Thesmo- 
phoriazusae.  —  The  Toxotes.    A  Syrian  archer  in  the  same 
comedy. 

126.  New  Kalligeneia.   The  name  given  to  Ceres,  mean- 
ing, the  bearer  of  lovely  offspring.  —  The  Great  King's 
Eye.     In  the  Achamians,  a  mocking  name  given  to  the 
Persian  ambassador.  —  Kompolakuthes.    A  player  of  the 
name  of  Lamachus,  meaning  a  boaster  who  is  also  a  bully.  — 
Silphion.    A  plant  used  as  a  relish.  —  Kleonclapper.     A 


32  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

corrector  of  Kleon.  —  Agathon.  An  Athenian  poet  of  much 
prominence  of  the  time  of  Euripides.  In  the  opening  of 
Aristophanes'  Thesmophoriazusae  he  is  brought  into  close 
connection  with  that  poet,  and  he  "  is  appealed  to  as  an  ef- 
feminate and  luxurious  man  whose  soft  and  sensuous  poetry 
was  the  natural  outcome  of  his  nature." 

127.  Babaiax.  An  exclamation  of  surprise.  —  Strattis. 
A  poet  of  the  Old  Comedy,  410-380  B.  c.  —  Told  him  in 
dream.  An  allusion  to  the  account  given  by  Cicero  in  his 
Divinatione,  xxv.,  as  follows :  "  To  the  philosophers  we 
may  add  the  testimony  of  Sophocles,  a  most  learned  man, 
and  as  a  poet  quite  divine,  who,  when  a  golden  goblet  of 
great  weight  had  been  stolen  from  the  temple  of  Heracles, 
saw  in  a  dream  the  god  himself  appearing  to  him,  and 
declaring  who  was  the  robber.  Sophocles  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  this  vision,  though  it  was  repeated  more  than  once. 
When  it  had  presented  itself  to  him  several  times,  he  pro- 
ceeded up  to  the  Court  of  the  Areopagus,  and  laid  the  mat- 
ter before  them.  On  this,  the  judges  issued  an  order  for 
the  arrest  of  the  offender  nominated  by  Sophocles.  On  the 
application  of  the  torture,  the  criminal  confessed  his  guilt, 
and  restored  the  goblet ;  from  which  event  this  temple  of 
Heracles  was  afterwards  called,  The  Temple  of  Heracles, 
the  Indicator.'  "  —  Euphwion.  One  of  the  two  sons  of 
,3£schylus  who  were  tragic  poets,  and  who  brought  out  four 
of  his  father's  unpublished  plays,  defeating  Euripides  with 
one  of  them.  —  Tmgaios.  An  epithet  of  Bacchus,  mean- 
ing vintager ;  but  here  refers  to  a  character  in  the  Peace  of 
Aristophanes.  —  Simonides.  "  The  lyric  poet  sang  an  ode 
to  his  patron  Scopas,  at  a  feast ;  and  as  he  had  introduced 
into  it  the  praises  of  Castor  and  Pollux,  Scopas  declared 
that  he  would  only  pay  his  own  half-share  of  the  ode,  and 
the  Demigods  might  pay  the  remainder.  Presently  it  was 
announced  to  Simonides  that  two  youths  desired  to  see  him 
outside  the  palace  ;  on  going  there  he  found  nobody,  but 
meanwhile  the  palace  fell  in,  killing  his  patron.  Thus  was 
he  paid"  [Mrs.  Orr.] 

128.  Philonides.  A  comic  poet,  but  principally  known  as 
having  brought  out  several  of  the  plays  of  Aristophanes.  — 
Kallistratos.  Another  poet  who  put  on  the  stage  several  of 
the  plays  of  Aristophanes.  —  lophon.  A  son  of  Sophocles, 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  33 

said  to  have  been  a  bad  poet,  yet  gained  victories.  He  tried 
to  take  away  his  father's  property  by  claiming  he  was  not 
able  to  manage  it,  but  Sophocles  read  the  chorus  of  his 
(Edipus  at  Colonus  to  the  judges,  who  decided  upon  his 
perfect  sanity. 

129.  Maketis.     The  capital  of  Macedonia. 

131.  Lamachos.   A  general  who  fell  at  the  siege  of  Syra- 
cuse ;    satirized  by  Aristophanes  in  the    Acharnians  as  a 
brave  but  boastful  man.  —  Philokleon.     A  dikast  or  judge 
who  was  made  a  character  in  The  Wasps.  —  Pisthetairos. 
A  character  in  The  Birds  of  Aristophanes,  an  Athenian  citi- 
zen who  goes  to  seek  his  fortune  in  the  kingdom  of  birds. 

—  Strepsiades.     A  rich  old   Athenian   in   The  Clouds.  — 
Ariphrades.     Imaginary  person. 

132.  Nikias.    An  Athenian  general  in  the  Peloponnesian 
war,  the  leader  of  the  aristocratic  party. 

135.  Sophroniskos1  son.     Socrates. 

139.  Kephisophon.    An  actor,  and  a  friend  of  Euripides, 
who  was  enviously  reported  to  help  him  in  writing  his  play. 

—  Wine-lees-song.     So   called   because    the    comic    actors 
rubbed  their  faces  with  wine-lees  in  place  of  masks  ;  hence 
a  comedian  was  a  trayudos  or  wine-lees-singer. 

141.  Palaistra.    A  wrestling-school  or  place  of  exercise. 

142.  Kleon.    A  leader  of  the  Athenian  democracy  during 
the  Peloponnesian  war.  —  Whirligig,  or  vortex.    A  satirical 
substitute  for  the  gods  in  Aristophanes'  Clouds,  where  he 
condemns  the  theories  of  the  philosophers.  —  Cha,irephon. 
One  of  the  friends  of  Socrates,  and  as  such  introduced  by 
Plato   into   his   dialogues.     He    appears   as    such   in    The 
Clouds.    He  was  a  man  of  great  warmth  of  temper,  so  much 
so  as  to  be  almost  insane. 

143.  Aias.   Ajax.  —  San.     The  letter  used  to  distinguish 
race-horses.  —  Menippos.    A  comic  poet.  —  Kepphe.     Im- 
aginary person.  —  Sporgilos.     Imaginary  person.  —  Thea- 
rion's   meal-tub  politics.     The   politics  of   Thearion,   the 
baker. 

144.  Rocky  Ones.     An  epithet  applied  to  the  Athenians. 

145.  Promachos.     Champion.  —  Kimon.     An  Athenian 
general  in  the  Persian  war.  —  Boule.     The  state  council. 

146.  Prodikos.     A  Greek  sophist  of  the  age  of  Socrates, 
satirized  in  the  Birds  and  Clouds.  —  Protagoras.    The  ear- 


34  Aristophanes'  Apology. 

liest  and  greatest  of  the  Sophists,  after  whom  Plato  named 
one  of  his  dialogues.  —  Choes.  A  festival  at  Athens,  called 
The  Pitchers. 

147.  Plataian  help.  Help  that  is  timely,  a  phrase  that 
derived  its  meaning  from  the  fact  that  the  Platseans  sent  a 
thousand  men  to  help  at  Marathon  and  thus  decided  the 
battle. 

150.  Plethron  square.    One  hundred  square  feet. 

151.  Archelaos.     The  king  of  Macedonia,  who   became 
the  patron  of  Euripides. 

152.  Cloudcuckooburg.     A  place  in  the  Birds  of  Aristo- 
phanes, satirizing  fanciful  political  theories,  a  castle  in  the 
air.  —  Palaistra-tool.     The  strigil  used  at  the  Palaistra  or 
wrestling-school. 

153.  Priapos.    Son  of  Dionysus  and  Aphrodite,  a  god  of 
fertility  and  sensuality.  —  Phales   lacchos.     Two  epithets 
for  Bacchus,  the  first  one  indecent. 

160.  Kinesias.    A  dithyrambic  poet,  who  tried  in  the  time 
of  Aristophanes  to  cut  down  the  money  spent  upon  comedy 
and  thus  to  decrease  its  dignity  and  importance.     Aristo- 
phanes laughed  at  him  for  his  leanness  and  his  incapacity 
as  a  poet,  in  his  Birds. 

161.  Aristonumos.   A  small  poet  opposed  to  Aristophanes. 
Sannurion.  —  A  comic  poet  satirized  by  Aristophanes  for 
his  leanness.  —  Rattei.     An  imitative  sound  or  gibberish 
expressive  of  joy. 

164.  Kassiterides.    The  tin-county  of  Cornwall  in  Britain. 

169.  Skiadeion.     A  parasol  or  sunshade.  —  Huperbolos. 
An  Athenian  demagogue,  contemporary  with  Cleon. 

170.  Theoria.     A  character,  in  the  Lysistrata,  personify- 
ing games,  spectacles  and  sights.  —  Opora.    A  character  in 
the  Lysistrata,  personifying  plenty  or  a  fruitful  autumn. 

172.  Philokleon  turns  Bdelukleon.  A  lover  of  Cleon 
turns  a  reviler  of  Cleon,  two  characters  in  The  Wasps. 
"  There  are  two  persons  opposed  to  one  another  in  this  piece ; 
the  old  Philocleon,  who  has  given  up  the  management  of  his 
affairs  to  his  son,  and  devoted  himself  entirely  to  his  office 
of  judge  (in  consequence  of  which  he  pays  the  profoundest 
respect  to  Cleon,  the  patron  of  the  popular  courts)  ;  and 
his  son  Bdelycleon,  who  has  a  horror  of  Cleon  and  of  the 
severity  of  the  courts  in  general."  [Muller.j  The  same 


Aristophanes'  Apology.  35 

characters  appear  in  the  Clouds,  but  here  their  position  with 
reference  to  Cleon  is  exactly  reversed.  —  Morsimos.  A 
descendant  of  ^Eschylus,  an  obscure  tragic  poet,  ridiculed 
by  the  comic  poets.  — Kratinos  (Cratinus).  The  originator 
of  political  comedy,  an  audacious  satirist,  one  whose  cho- 
ruses were  sung  as  popular  songs. 

173.  Logeion.     The  front  of  the  stage  occupied  by  the 
actors. 

174.  Kuklobor  os-roaring.    A  roaring  like  that  of  the  tor- 
rent of  Cycloboros  in  Attica. 

176.  Konnos.  The  play  by  Ameipsias  which  beat  the 
Clouds  of  Aristophanes.  —  Eukrates,  Lusikles,  Telekleides 
and  Hermippos.  Comic  poe£s  who  satirized  Pericles  and 
Cymon.  —  Moruchides.  An  Athenian  archon,  who  made  a 
law  permitting  the  comic  poets  to  make  personal  attacks.  — 
Euthumenes.  An  Athenian  ruler  who  refused  the  pay  of  the 
comic  poets,  but  who  tripled  that  of  those  who  attended  the 
assembly.  —  Surakosios.  An  archon  who  made  a  law  limit- 
iting  the  freedom  of  lampooning.  — Argurrhios.  An  Athe- 
nian ruler  connected  with  the  use  made  by  the  comic  poets 
of  satire  and  the  lampoon. 

178.  Triballos.    A  country  or  clownish  god. 

179.  Pentheus.     The  successor  of    Cadmus  as  king   of 
Thebes,  who  was  destroyed  by  his  own  mother  because  of 
his  opposition  to  the  Dionysius-worship. 

193.  Propula  (propyla).     A  name  derived  from  propu- 
laia  (propylaea),  the  gateway  to  the  Acropolis. 

226.  Kottabos  (cottabus).     "  A  game  of  skill  for  a  long 
time  in  great  vogue  in  Greece,  frequently  alluded  to  by  the 
classic  writers,  and  not  seldom  depicted  on  the  ancient  vases. 
The  object  of  the  player  was  to  cast  a  portion  of  wine  left 
in  his  drinking-cup,  in  such  a  way  tljat  without  breaking  bulk 
in  its  passage  through  the  air,  it  should  reach  a  vessel  set  to 
receive  it,  and  there  produce  a  distinct  noise  by  its  impact. 
The  thrower,  in  the  ordinary  form  of  the  game,  was  ex- 
pected to  retain  the  recumbent  position  that  was  usual  at 
table,  and  in  playing  the  cottabus,  to  make  use  of  the  right 
hand  only."     See  Becker's  Charicles  for  account  of  other 
forms  of  the  game. 

227.  Tin-islands.     Great  Britain,  or  perhaps  more  cor- 
rectly, the  Scilly  Islands.  —  Thamuris     (Thamyris).     A 


36  Artemis  Prologizes. 

musician  or  poet  preceding  Homer,  native  of  Thrace,  who 
claimed  to  despise  the  Muses,  and  was  punished  with  blind- 
ness for  his  presumption. 

228.  Balura.  A  small  stream  of  Messenia,  flowing  into 
the  Famisus. 

235.  Elaphebolion-month.  The  month  for  stag-hunting  or 
stag-striking ;  the  month  when  the  comedies  were  presented. 
—  Bakis-prophecy.  Foolish  prophecies  attributed  to  one 
Bacis,  then  common ;  hence,  a  general  name  for  all  foolish 
attempts  to  forecast  the  future. 

239.  Kommos.   A  name  for  general  weeping  by  the  chorus 
or  by  an  actor.  —  Phaps-^laphion.     The   leader  of   the 
chorus  of  females  or  flute-players. 

240.  Philemon.    A  poet  of  t<he  New  Comedy,  who  wrote 
many  plays,  only  fragments  of  which  have  been  preserved. 
He  is  mentioned  because  he  is  the  first  of  the  new  school, 
the  greatest  of  whom  was  Menander. 

See  London  Quarterly  Review,  44  : 354  ;  Athenceum, 
April  17,  1875  ;  Browning  Society's  Papers,  J.  B.  Bury, 
number  eight,  2  :  79  and  2  :117*. 

Artemis  Prologizes.  First  published  in  1842,  in 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  the  third  part  of  Bells  and  Pomegran- 
ates. Poems,  1849,  under  the  heading  Dramatic  Romances 
and  Lyrics.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  given 
a  place  in  Men  and  Women. 

This  poem  was  the  result  of  the  reading  of  the  Hippolytus 
of  Euripides.  In  that  play  Hippolytus  is  represented  as  a 
chaste  worshiper  of  Artemis  (Latin,  Diana)  who  will  give  no 
heed  to  Venus.  He  is  loved  by  Phaedra,  his  step-mother, 
who,  when  he  will  not  reciprocate  her  advances,  kills  herself, 
but  leaves  a  letter  to  Theseus,  her  husband,  accusing  Hip- 
polytus of  an  improper  affection  for  herself.  Theseus  sends 
his  son  into  exile  ;  but  the  unfortunate  young  man's  horses 
are  frightened  by  a  bull  sent  by  Poseidon  ;  they  run  with 
furious  speed,  and  he  is  dragged  behind  his  chariot  until  he 
is  mortally  wounded.  Theseus  rejoices  at  this  punishment 
until  Artemis  appears  and  shows  him  his  error.  Then  Hip- 
polytus is  conveyed  into  the  presence  of  his  father ;  the  old 
love  returns  between  them,  and  Hippolytus  expires  in  his 
father's  arms. 

At  this  point  Browning  takes  up  the  story,  and  follows 


Artemis  Prologizes.  37 

the  legend  which  says  that  Hippolytus  was  revived  by  Arte- 
mis, but  falls  in  love  with  Aricia,  one  of  her  nymphs.  He 
planned  a  long  poem  on  this  legend,  but  only  the  present 
fragment  was  written  ;  something  diverting  his  mind  from 
the  subject  of  the  poem,  it  was  not  again  taken  up.  In  this 
fragment  the  speaker  is  Artemis ;  and  she  relates  how  Hip- 
polytus came  to  his  death,  as  the  story  is  told  in  the  play  of 
Euripides.  She  tells  —  what  is  not  told  in  the  play  —  how 
she  had  conveyed  him  in  secret  to  her  forest  retreat,  where 
she  is  at  work,  with  the  aid  of  vEsculapius,  in  bringing  him 
back  to  life.  Hippolytus  is  not  yet  restored,  but  he -has  the 
appearance  of  being  only  in  sleep.  The  fragment  closes  at 
the  moment  when  Artemis  declares  her  purpose  of  awaiting 
in  silence  the  result  of  her  efforts  to  revive  her  favorite. 

It  was  in  this  poem  that  Browning  first  adopted  that 
form  of  spelling  Greek  words  which  he  followed  to  the  end 
of  his  life.  In  the  preface  to  the  translation  of  the  Agar 
memnon,  1877,  he  set  forth  his  theory  on  that  subject,  and 
defended  it  with  zeal  and  knowledge.  He  had  occasion 
now  and  then  in  other  places  to  say  a  word  on  the  subject. 
"  He  even  assured  his  friends,"  says  Mrs.  Orr,  "  that  if  the 
innovation  had  been  rationally  opposed,  or  simply  not  ac- 
cepted, he  would  probably  himself  have  abandoned  it.  But 
when,  years  later,  in  Balaustion's  Adventure,  the  new  spell- 
ing became  the  subject  of  attacks  which  all  but  ignored  the 
existence  of  the  work  from  any  other  point  of  view,  the 
thought  of  yielding  was  no  longer  admissible." 

Mrs.  Orr  prints  in  her  Hand-book  a  note  from  Browning 
with  reference  to  these  attacks.  It  is  in  reply  to  an  article 
in  the  Nineteenth  Century,  for  January,  1886,  written  by 
Mr.  Frederick  Harrison.  "  I  have  just  noticed,"  wrote 
Browning,  "  in  this  month's  Nineteenth  Century  that  it  is 
inquired  by  a  humorous  objector  to  the  practice  of  spelling 
(under  exceptional  conditions)  Greek  proper  names  as  they 
are  spelled  in  Greek  literature,  why  the  same  principle 
should  not  be  adopted  by  ^Egyptologists,  Hebraists,  San- 
scrittists,  Accadians,  Moabites,  Hittites,  and  Cuneif  ormists  ? 
Adopt  it  by  all  means  whenever  the  particular  language 
enjoyed  by  any  fortunate  possessor  of  these  shall,  like  Greek, 
have  been  for  about  three  hundred  years  insisted  upon  in 
England,  as  an  acquisition  of  paramount  importance  at 


38       Ask  not  one  least  word.  —  Asolando. 

school  and  college,  for  every  aspirant  to  distinction  in  learn- 
ing, even  at  the  cost  of  six  or  seven  years'  study —  a  sacri- 
fice considered  well  worth  making  for  even  an  imperfect 
acquaintance  with  the  most  perfect  language  in  the  world. 
Further,  it  will  be  adopted  whenever  the  letters  substituted 
for  those  in  ordinary  English  use  shall  do  no  more  than  rep- 
resent to  the  unscholarly  what  the  scholar  accepts  without 
scruple,  when,  for  the  hundredth  time,  he  reads  the  word 
which,  for  once,  he  has  occasion  to  write  in  English,  and 
which  he  concludes  must  be  as  euphonic  as  the  rest  of  a 
language  renowned  for  euphony.  And  finally,  the  practice 
will  be  adopted  whenever  the  substituted  letters  effect  no 
sort  of  organic  change,  so  as  to  jostle  the  word  from  its  pride 
of  place  in  English  verse  or  prose.  '  Themistokles  '  fits  in 
quietly  everywhere,  with  or  without  the  '  k ; '  but  in  a  cer- 
tain poetical  translation  I  remember  by  a  young  friend,  of 
the  Anabasis,  beginning  thus  felicitously,  '  Cyrus  the  Great 
and  Artaxerxes  (Whose  temper  bloodier  than  a  Turk's 
is)  Were  children  both  of  the  mild,  pious,  And  happy 
monarch  King  Darius  ;  who  fails  to  see  that,  although  a 
correct  '  Kuraush  '  may  pass,  yet  '  Darayavash '  disturbs  the 
metre  as  well  as  the  rhyme  ?  It  seems,  however,  that  '  The- 
mistokles '  may  be  winked  at ;  not  so  the  '  harsh  and  subver- 
sive "  Kirke." '  But  let  the  objector  ask  somebody  with  no 
knowledge  to  subvert,  how  he  supposes  '  Circe '  is  spelled 
in  Greek,  and  the  answer  will  be,  '  With  a  soft  c.'  Inform 
him  that  no  such  letter  exists,  and  he  guesses,  '  Then  with  s, 
if  there  be  anything  like  it.'  Tell  him  that  to  eye  and  ear 
equally,  his  own  k  answers  the  purpose,  and  you  have  at  all 
events  taught  him  that  much,  if  little  enough  —  and  why 
does  he  live  unless  to  learn  a  little  !  "  This  note  is  signed 
"  R.  B."  Its  date  is  January  4,  1886. 

See  the  study  of  Hippolytus  in  the  first  series  of  Symonds' 
Greek  Poets ;  see  also  William  Cranston  Lawton's  Three 
Dramas  of  Euripides. 

Ask  not  one  least  word  of  praise !  The  first  line 
of  the  eleventh  lyric  in  ferishtah's  fancies. 

Asolando :  Fancies  and  Facts.  Published  by  Smith, 
Elder  &  Co.,  London,  December,  1889.  Pages  i.-viii.,  1- 
167. 

Contents:  Prologue;  Rosny  ;  Dubiety;  Now ;  Humility ; 


Asolando  :  Fancies  and  Facts.  39 

Poetics ;  Summum  Bonum ;  A  Pearl,  a  Girl ;  Speculative ; 
White  Witchcraft;  Bad  Dreams:  I.,  II.,  III.,  and  IV.; 
Inapprehensiveness  ;  Which  ?  The  Cardinal  and  the  Dog ; 
The  Pope  and  the  Net;  The  Bean- Feast;  Muckle-Mouth 
Meg ;  Arcades  Ambo ;  The  Lady  and  the  Painter  ;  Ponte 
dell'  Angelo,  Venice ;  Beatrice  Signorini ;  Flute-Music,  with 
an  Accompaniment ;  "  Imperante  Augusto  Natus  Est  —  "  ; 
Development ;  Rephan ;  Reverie  ;  Epilogue. 

Browning  first  visited  Asolo  when  a  young  man ;  he 
made  it  the  scene  of  Pippa  Passes,  and  he  referred  to  it  in 
Sordello.  He  was  there  again  in  the  early  autumn  of  1889, 
as  the  guest  for  several  weeks  at  the  summer  home  of  Mrs. 
Arthur  Bronson ;  there  he  completed  the  preparation  of 
Asolando,  and  there  he  wrote  its  dedication  to  this  intimate 
friend.  Then  he  went  to  Venice,  and  there  his  life  came 
to  an  end,  just  after  this  volume  had  been  issued  from  the 
press. 

Asolo  is  a  small  town  in  Venetia.  It  is  located  in  the 
province  of  Treviso,  and  is  about  nineteen  miles  from  the 
city  of  that  name.  It  is  the  ancient  Acelum,  known  to 
Plotemy  and  Pliny.  It  was  destroyed  by  the  Huns,  and 
came  into  the  hands  of  the  Venetians  in  1337.  It  is  finely 
located,  and  now  has  a  population  of  about  six  thousand. 
Located  on  high  ground,  it  is  surrounded  by  fortifica- 
tions ;  and  near  by  is  an  old  castle.  It  has  a  cathedral  and 
a  public  fountain ;  it  also  contains  the  ruins  of  public  baths 
and  a  Roman  aqueduct.  Not  far  off  is  the  quarry  of  Rocca. 
The  town  is  now  famous  mainly  for  its  silk  culture  and 
manufacture. 

In  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  Asolo  is  the  palace  once 
occupied  by  Caterina  Cornaro,  and  now  used  as  a  dairy. 
Caterina  was  born  in  Venice  in  1454,  the  daughter  of  Marco 
Cornaro,  a  wealthy  and  noble  citizen.  In  1471  she  married 
James  Lusignan,  king  of  Cyprus.  The  next  year  the  king 
died,  and  for  seven  years  Caterina  was  queen  of  Cyprus, 
though  with  little  authority  or  influence.  Venice  had  her 
hand  on  the  queen's  country,  and  made  it  her  own,  compel- 
ling Caterina  to  resign.  She  was  given  Castle  Asolo,  by 
Venice,  and  there  she  continued  to  rule  as  a  queen  until  her 
death,  in  1510. 

Among   those  who   formed   the  court   of  Caterina  was 


40  Asolando :  Fancies  and  Facts. 

Pietro  Bembo,  one  of  the  great  Italian  scholars  of  the  pe- 
riod, a  humanist,  a  restorer  of  pure  and  graceful  Latin,  and 
a  man  of  broad  and  generous  tastes.  When  a  young  man 
he  was  Caterina's  secretary,  and  helped  to  entertain  her 
court.  He  wrote  a  description  of  its  idyllic  life,  as  he  saw 
it,  in  his  Degli  Asolani  ;  and  described  the  music,  the  acted 
dialogue,  and  the  graceful  outdoor  wanderings  in  grove  and 
garden,  with  which  these  people  amused  themselves. 

The  title  of  the  book  Browning  attributes  to  Bembo's  use 
of  the  word  asolare  —  "  to  disport  in  the  open  air,  amuse 
one's  self  at  random  "  ;  an  expression  which  admirably  de- 
scribes the  life  at  the  court  of  Caterina  Cornaro.  It  is  a 
far-drawn  double  play  upon  words  which  led  to  the  use  of 
such  a  title  ;  but  it  answers  its  purpose  as  well  as  any  other, 
and  connects  the  last  of  Browning's  books  with  a  place  that 
had  pleasant  associations  for  him. 

An  account  of  Asolo,  and  of  Caterina's  life  there,  is  given 
in  Mr.  Horatio  F.  Brown's  Venetian  Studies.  "  The  cas- 
tle of  Asolo  stood  on  the  spurs  of  the  Alps,  between  Bas- 
sano  and  Montebelluno,  at  no  great  distance  from  the  Villa 
Maser.  Far  away  it  looked  across  the  plain  to  Padua  and 
the  Euganean  Hills,  those  islanded  mounds  that  rise  ab- 
ruptly from  the  rich  growth  of  vineyards  and  of  mulberry 
trees.  "On  the  other  side  of  the  hills  lived  another  famous 
woman,  beautiful  with  golden  hair  —  Lucrezia  Borgia,  duch- 
ess of  Ferrara.  The  morning  sun  and  clear  light  morning 
air  come  fresh  to  Asolo  from  the  sea  that  lies  round  Venice  ; 
while  behind  it  the  Julian  Alps  swell  upward,  wave  on 
wave,  towards  the  boundary  heights.  It  was  here  that  Cat- 
erina was  to  taste  the  sweet  idyllic  close  to  ah1  her  stormy 
life,  surrounded  by  her  little  court,  her  twelve  maids  of 
honor,  and  her  eighty  serving-men,  her  favorite  negress 
with  the  parrots,  her  apes  and  peacocks  and  hounds,  and 
dwarf  buffoon.  Here  the  still  days  went  by  in  garden 
walks,  or  by  the  little  brooks,  or  in  the  oak  grove,  where 
the  company  would  talk  of  love  as  though  it  had  no  life, 
like  some  dead  god  that  could  not  reach  their  hearts ;  or 
else  would  sing  the  sun  to  his  setting,  with  touch  of  lute 
strings  and  sweetly  modulated  voices. 

"  Caterina  left  Venice  for  Asolo,  and  all  the  people  of 
her  little  principality,  olive  crowned  and  bearing  olive 


At  the  "  Mermaid.1"  41 

branches  in  their  hands,  came  out  to  meet  their  lady. 
Under  a  canopy  of  cloth  of  gold  they  led  her  to  the  piazza  of 
Borgo  d'  Asolo,  where  an  address  was  presented  to  her.  .  .  . 
Caterina  began  to  give  laws  to  her  little  kingdom,  and  to 
take  a  queenly  interest  in  its  cares  and  its  well-being.  She 
opened  a  monte  di  pieta,  or  pawnbroking  bank,  for  the  relief 
of  those  in  pressing  need.  She  imported  grain  from  Cyprus 
and  distributed  it.  She  appointed  her  treasurer  of  state, 
her  potestas  regius,  and  an  auditor  to  hear  and  judge  ap- 
peals. She  wielded  her  little  scepter  for  her  people's  good, 
and  won  their  love  by  gentleness  and  grace.  Here,  in  the 
quiet  of  twenty  years,  she  lived,  surrounded  by  a  phantom 
royalty ;  yet,  unsubstantial  as  it  might  be,  it  was  as  real  as 
any  she  had  known  in  Cyprus.  Here  she  and  her  court 
listened  one  and  all  to  those  grave  ragionamenti  on  platonic 
love,  with  their  weariful,  never-ending  age  of  gold,  with  their 
gods  and  goddesses  and  mortals  made  immortal.  .  .  . 

"  The  queen  really  loved  Asolo,  her  gardens,  and  her 
court,  nor  ever  wished  to  leave  them,  summer  or  winter. 
Three  times  only  did  she  make  a  journey  from  her  castle  : 
once  when  the  weather  was  so  cold  that  men  could  walk 
from  Mestre  to  Venice  across  the  lagoon ;  once  she  paid  a 
visit  to  her  brother  Giorgio,  podesta  in  Brescia ;  and  again 
when  Asolo  was  occupied  by  the  troops  of  Maximilian. 
Caterina  went  to  Venice  for  greater  safety,  and  died  there 
on  the  tenth  of  July,  1510,  fifty-six  years  old.  Her  funeral 
displayed  as  much  magnificence  as  Venice  could  afford. 
Over  her  grave  Andrea  Navagero,  poet,  scholar  and  am- 
bassador, made  the  oration  that  bade  farewell  to  this  un- 
happy queen,  whose  beauty,  goodness,  gentleness,  and  grace, 
were  unavailing  to  save  her  from  the  tyrannous  cruelty  of 
fate." 

See  Poet-Lore,  2  :  94 ;  Academy,  Arthur  Symons,  Janu- 
ary 11,  1890;  Athenceum,  January  18,  1890;  Spectator, 
January  25,  1890 ;  Andover  Review,  February,  1890. 

At  the  "  Mermaid."  Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems. 
1876. 

In  this  poem  the  speaker  is  Shakespeare,  to  whom  it  has 
just  been  suggested  that  he  is  to  be  the  next  great  poet. 
He  is  speaking  to  his  literary  friends,  especially  to  Ben 
Jonson,  gathered  at  "  The  Mermaid "  tavern,  the  favorite 


42     Austin  Tresham.  —  Balaustion's  Adventure. 

resort  in  London  of  the  Elizabethan  wits.  He  refuses  to 
accept  the  praise  given  him,  says  he  has  no  new  method  as 
a  poet ;  and  he  asks  his  friends  to  show  him  the  tokens  that 
he  is  the  dead  king's  heir  and  son.  He  is  not  at  all  inclined 
to  produce  a  sedition  in  the  methods  of  song  or  to  inaugu- 
rate a  schism  in  the  art  of  verse-making. 

The  main  purpose  of  this  poem  is  to  protest,  in  the  name 
of  the  greatest  dramatic  poet,  against  the  habit  of  attribut- 
ing to  the  dramatist  as  his  own  personal  beliefs,  those  senti- 
ments and  opinions  which  he  puts  into  the  mouths  of  his 
characters.  He  will  not  accept  the  tendency  to  identify 
his  characters  with  himself  as  being  either  just  or  right ;  his 
life  is  his  own,  hid  from  the  world ;  and  it  is  not  his  own 
life  which  he  puts  into  his  dramatic  works.  The  poem  is 
an  emphatic  protest  against  that  tendency  in  criticism  which 
finds  in  the  plays  of  Shakespeare  a  full-grown  system  of 
philosophy,  and  it  is  a  denial  that  the  dramatist  could  have 
had  any  such  aim.  It  is  also  a  protest  against  the  tendency 
in  poetry  to  represent  the  dark  and  evil  side  of  life,  a  ten- 
dency best  shown  in  Byron.  Browning  also  alludes  to 
Shakespeare  in  the  poem  called  House,  and  in  Sludge  the 
Medium. 

Austin  Tresham.  The  lover  of  Guendolen  Tresham  in 
A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  and  the  next  heir  to  the  earldom 
of  Tresham. 

Bad  Dreams.     Asolando,  1889. 

Balaustion.  The  Greek  girl  of  Rhodes  who,  in  Balaus- 
tion's  Adventure,  at  Syracuse  saves  the  ship-load  of  her 
companions  journeying  to  Athens,  by  her  recital  of  Euri- 
pides' Alcestis.  Her  adventures  are  continued  in  Aristo- 
phanes' Apology,  wherein  she  marries  her  lover,  defends 
Euripides  against  the  great  writer  of  comedies,  and  sails 
back  again  to  Rhodes. 

Balaustion's  Adventure  :  Including  a  Transcript 
from  Euripides.  Published  in  August,  1871,  by  Smith, 
Elder  and  Co.,  London.  The  poem  was  written  and  the 
translation  made  at  the  suggestion  of  Lady  Cowper,  to  whom 
it  is  dedicated.  The  motto  is  from  Mrs.  Browning's  Wine 
of  Cyprus.  Pages  1-170. 

This  poem  is  something  more  than  a  translation  of  the 
Alcestis  of  Euripides.  It  is  a  defense  of  that  dramatic 


Balaustion^  s  Adventure.  43 

poet  as  the  most  human  of  all  the  Greek  dramatists,  and 
the  most  modern  in  spirit.  Euripides  has  been  criticised 
by  numerous  writers  for  his  defective  plots,  and  for  the 
crudeness  of  his  dramatic  methods  as  compared  with  JEs- 
chylus ;  but  in  his  dramas  there  is  more  of  pathos  and  ten- 
derness, and  a  larger  appreciation  of  the  facts  of  human  life. 
This  is  admirably  expressed  in  the  motto  taken  from  Mrs. 
Browning,  as  well  as  in  many  of  the  effects  produced  by 
Balaustion's  recitation  of  the  Alcestis.  Professor  Mahaffy 
says  Browning  is  "  the  modern  poet  who  best  understands 
Euripides." 

The  plays  of  Euripides  were  more  favorably  received 
outside  Athens  than  in  it ;  and  on  this  fact  Browning  has 
based  his  account  of  the  adventure  of  Balaustion,  which 
took  place  in  the  year  413  B.  c.,  during  the  second  stage  of 
the  Peloponnesian  war,  that  great  struggle  between  Athens 
and  Sparta  for  the  leadership  of  Greece.  It  occurred  at  the 
time  when  Athens  had  sent  out  an  expedition  against  Syra- 
cuse that  had  utterly  failed.  Then  the  people  of  Rhodes 
proposed  to  withdraw  their  allegiance  from  Athens  and  join 
Sparta.  Balaustion,  a  native  of  the  city  of  Camirus  in 
Rhodes,  had  been  so  nurtured  on  Athenian  traditions  and 
ideas  that  she  was  not  willing  to  submit  to  Sparta.  She 
persuaded  her  family  to  flee  with  her  to  Athens.  They 
crossed  over  to  Caunus,  on  the  mainland,  where  they  hired 
a  ship  to  carry  them  to  Athens.  They  were  driven  out  of 
their  way  by  contrary  winds,  and  likely  to  be  captured  by 
a  piratical  ship,  when  they  sought  a  harbor,  which  proved 
to  be  that  of  Syracuse.  The  people  there  would  not  receive 
the  fugitives,  because  they  heard  a  song  coming  from  the 
ship,  which  declared  the  glory  of  Athens.  When  it  was 
found,  however,  that  Balaustion  could  recite  a  play  by  the 
new  dramatic  poet,  Euripides,  they  were  admitted  to  the 
city  and  most  kindly  received.  Balaustion  recited  Alcestis, 
which  is  presented  in  a  narrative  form  and,  of  course,  is  not 
literally  translated  throughout.  This  is  one  of  the  most 
pathetic  of  the  plays  of  Euripides,  and  it  justifies  the  de- 
scription of  the  poet  by  Mrs.  Browning  as  "  the  human  with 
the  droppings  of  warm  tears." 

The  Greeks  in  every  country  took  great  interest  in  the 
works  of  the  dramatic  poets,  and  were  eager  to  see  their 


44  Balaustion 's  Adventure. 

plays  on  the  stage  or  to  hear  them  recited.  The  ability  to 
recite  their  plays  or  portions  of  them  was  sometimes  the  oc- 
casion of  the  liberation  of  captives  and  their  kindly  treat- 
ment. The  adventure  of  Balaustion  is  based  on  a  passage 
in  Plutarch's  Lives,  contained  in  his  biography  of  Nicias, 
the  leader  of  the  expedition  against  Syracuse.  Many  of 
the  Athenians  and  their  allies  were  taken  prisoners  and  suf- 
fered great  barbarities,  while  many  who  were  discreet  and 
orderly  were  set  free. 

"  Several  were  saved  for  the  sake  of  Euripides,"  says 
Plutarch,  in  Clough's  translation,  "  whose  poetry,  it  appears, 
was  in  request  amoug  the  Sicilians  more  than  among  any  of 
the  settlers  out  of  Greece.  And  when  any  travelers  arrived 
that  could  tell  them  some  passage,  or  give  them  any  speci- 
men of  his  verses,  they  were  delighted  to  be  able  to  com- 
municate them  to  one  another.  Many  of  the  captives  who 
got  safe  back  to  Athens  are  said,  after  they  reached  home, 
to  have  gone  and  made  their  acknowledgments  to  Euripides, 
relating  how  that  some  of  them  had  been  released  from 
their  slavery  by  teaching  what  they  could  remember  of  his 
poems,  and  others,  when  straggling  after  the  fight,  had  been 
relieved  with  meat  and  drink,  for  repeating  some  of  his 
lyrics.  Nor  need  this  be  any  wonder,  for  it  is  told  that  a 
ship  of  Caunus  fleeing  into  one  of  their  harbors  for  protec- 
tion, pursued  by  pirates,  was  not  received,  but  forced  back, 
till  one  asked  if  they  knew  any  of  Euripides'  verses,  and  on 
their  saying  they  did,  they  were  admitted,  and  their  ship 
brought  into  harbor." 

This  incident  from  Plutarch  is  used  as  introductory  to 
the  translation  of  Alcestis.  Balaustion  relates  to  four  of 
her  girl-friends  the  story  of  her  adventure  at  Syracuse ;  how 
she  had  saved  her  companions  there,  how  she  had  been  fol- 
lowed to  Athens  by  a  young  man  she  is  now  about  to  marry, 
and  how  she  recited  the  new  play  of  Euripides  on  the  steps 
of  the  temple  of  Heracles  in  Syracuse.  She  adds  to  the 
words  of  Euripides  such  words  of  her  own  as  help  to  make 
the  drama  more  clear  and  vivid  in  its  monologue  form. 
Having  repeated  the  play  as  she  gave  it  at  Syracuse,  she 
concludes  her  narrative  by  a  legendary  addition  to  the  story, 
relating  how  Alcestis  and  Admetus  had  lived  happily  to- 
gether ever  after.  She  also  tells  how  it  had  all  been  painted 


The  Bean-Feast.  45 

by  a  great  painter,  and  how  a  great  poetess  had  given  the 
dramatist  his  true  designation  as  a  man  and  as  a  poet. 
The  poetess  referred  to  is  Mrs.  Browning,  and  the  artist  is 
Sir  Frederick  Leighton. 

The  best  account  of  Euripides,  his  life  and  his  works,  is 
to  be  found  in  Professor  J.  P.  Mahaffy's  little  book  con- 
tained in  the  series  of  Classical  Writers,  edited  by  J.  R. 
Green.  A  similar,  but  less  valuable,  work  is  that  by  W.  B. 
Donne,  in  the  series  of  Ancient  Classics  for  English  Read- 
ers. Admirable  critical  studies  are  to  be  found  in  Mahaffy's 
Greek  Literature  and  J.  A.  Symonds'  Studies  of  the  Greek 
Poets,  first  series.  There  are  translations  of  all  of  the  plays 
of  Euripides  by  Potter,  Banks  and  Woodhull.  Potter  has 
a  few  notes  that  will  be  found  helpful.  The  story  of  Al- 
cestis  is  told  by  Mr.  Morris  in  his  Earthly  Paradise.  Pro- 
fessor Mahaffy  has  this  to  say  of  Browning's  translation : 
"  By  far  the  best  translation  is  Mr.  Browning's,  in  his  Ba- 
laustion's  Adventure,  but  it  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  he 
did  not  render  the  choral  odes  into  lyric  verse.  No  one 
has  more  thoroughly  appreciated  the  main  features  of  Ad- 
metus  and  Pheres,  and  their  dramatic  propriety."  See  Sy- 
mons'  Introduction  for  a  discussion  of  the  merits  of  the 
translation. 

See  Contemporary  Beview,  18  :  284 ;  Nation,  13 :  178  ; 
St.  Paul's  Magazine,  13  :  178  ;  Penn  Monthly,  6 :  928  ; 
Edinburgh  Review,  135  :  221 ;  Fortnightly  Review,  Sydney 
Colvin,  16  :  478  ;  London  Quarterly,  37  :  346  ;  Poet-Lore, 
2  :  345  ;  Academy,  G.  A.  Slmcox,  Sept.  1, 1871. 

Bean-Feast,  The.     Asolando,  1889. 

Felix  Peretti,  who  became  Pope  Sixtus  V.,  was  born 
near  Montalto  in  1521,  of  very  poor  parents.  His  father 
•was  a  vine-dresser ;  but  the  son  was  hired  to  a  neighbor 
to  keep  sheep,  and  then  was  put  in  charge  of  a  drove  of 
hogs.  He  accidentally  became  acquainted  with  a  monk,  who 
was  so  pleased  with  him  that  he  secured  him  a  place  in  the 
Franciscan  monastery,  where  he  was  educated.  He  rapidly 
advanced,  became  a  priest,  then  a  popular  preacher  in  Rome, 
and  a  cardinal  in  1570.  In  1585,  he  was  unanimously 
elected  pope,  and  began  at  once  a  thorough  work  of  reform. 
He  was  one  of  the  purest  and  most  faithful  of  all  the  popes, 
and  one  of  the  truest  to  the  ideal  conception  of  that  office. 


46  A  Sean- Stripe. 

He  rigidly  suppressed  crime,  destroyed  the  banditti,  ex- 
tensively improved  the  city  of  Rome,  built  a  great  aqueduct 
for  supplying  the  city  with  water,  founded  the  Vatican 
library,  added  the  dome  to  St.  Peter's,  and  made  his  office 
everywhere  respected. 

He  employed  spies  to  search  out  crime,  and  he  himself 
sought  in  all  possible  ways  to  suppress  evil-doing.  It  was 
said  that  he  went  about  the  city  in  disguise,  in  order  to 
see  how  people  lived ;  but  this  is  merely  legend  or  rumor. 
In  Ellis  Farnsworth's  Life  of  Pope  Sixtus  the  Fifth,  Lon- 
don, 1754,  is  given  an  account  of  an  actual  historic  occur- 
rence. 

"  Another  time,  as  he  passed  through  the  city,  seeing  the 
gates  of  that  Convent  open,  he  suddenly  got  out  of  his 
chariot,  and  went  into  the  porter's  lodge,  where  he  found 
the  porter,  who  was  a  lay  brother,  eating  a  platter  of  beans, 
with  oil  poured  over  them.  As  the  meanness  of  the  repast 
put  him  in  mind  of  his  former  condition,  he  took  a  wooden 
spoon,  and  sitting  down  close  to  the  porter,  on  a  stair-case, 
first  eat  one  platter  full  with  him,  and  then  another,  to  the 
great  surprise  of  those  that  were  with  him.  After  that  he 
had  thanked  the  lay  brother  for  his  entertainment,  he  turned 
to  his  attendants,  and  said,  '  We  shall  live  two  years  longer 
for  this ;  for  we  have  eat  with  an  appetite,  and  without  fear 
or  suspicion.'  And  then  lifting  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  said, 
'  The  Lord  be  praised  for  permitting  a  Pope,  once  in  his 
life,  to  make  a  meal  in  peace  and  quietness.'  " 

It  is  quite  possible  Browning  may  have  found  in  some 
of  the  Italian  gossipy  lives  of  Sixtus,  the  very  anecdote  he 
puts  into  verse,  but  such  anecdote  must  be  taken  only  for 
what  it  is  worth.  The  poem  gives  a  true  idea  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  Pope,  his  deep  religious  convictions,  his  humility, 
and  his  capacity  for  mingling  on  friendly  terms  with  the 
meanest  of  his  subjects. 

Bean-Stripe,  A :  Also  Apple-Eating.  Ferishtah's 
Fancies,  1884. 

The  Indian  Sage.  Sakya  Muni  or  Buddha,  who  in  his 
conception  of  the  world  was  a  pessimist.  —  Ahriman.  The 
Persian  Devil  or  personification  of  evil.  —  Ormuzd.  The 
Persian  Deity  or  good  God,  who  is  opposed  by  Ahriman. 
—  Shalim-Shah.  The  Persian  for  "  King  of  kings."  — 


Beatrice  Signorini.  47 

Rustem,  Gew,  and  Gudarz.  Heroes  in  the  Shah-Nameh. 
Rustem  is  a  noble  character,  brave,  faithful  and  generous. 
There  is  something  very  human  about  him,  and  he  seems 
quite  as  real  as  any  of  the  heroes  in  the  Iliad.  —  Sindokht. 
The  wife  of  Mihrab,  another  of  the  legendary  characters 
in  the  Shah-Nameh.  She  was  the  mother  of  Rudabeh, 
whose  love  for  Zal  forms  one  of  the  most  romantic  episodes 
in  this  epic.  Sindokht  was  politic  and  skillful  as  a  match- 
maker, and  brought  the  two  young  people  together  as  she 
desired.  —  Sulayman.  Another  personage  of  the  Shah- 
Nameh.  —  Kawah.  In  the  same  poem,  the  blacksmith 
who  raises  the  standard  of  revolt,  consisting  of  his  own 
apron,  against  the  tyrannies  of  Zohak.  Kawah,  who  was 
remarkably  strong  and  brave,  was  aided  by  Feridun  ;  and 
these  two  were  able  to  overcome  the  evil  king.  — Seven 
Thrones.  Ursa  Major.  —  Zurah.  The  Persian  Venus.  — 
Parwin.  The  Persian  name  of  the  Pleiades.  —  Zerdusht. 
Zoroaster,  the  founder  of  the  national  religion  of  Persia. 

Beatrice  Signorini.     Asolando,  1889. 

Giovanni  Francesco  Romanelli  was  born  at  Viterbo  in 
1617,  and  studied  under  Domenichino,  Pietro  da  Cortona, 
and  Bernini.  He  went  to  Rome,  and  was  patronized  by 
Cardinal  Barberini.  Baldinucci  gives  his  biography  at. 
considerable  length,  and  enumerates  his  various  works. 
That  part  of  the  sketch  relating  to  the  poem  is  as  follows : 
"  He  wished  to  return  to  Viterbo ;  and  as  he  was  of  a  gay 
and  lively 'temperament,  likewise  very  susceptible  and  of  an 
amorous  disposition,  fond  of  all  pleasures,  such  as  dancing, 
games,  and  the  society  of  the  opposite  sex,  it  came  to  pass 
that  he  fell  in  love  with  a  noble  lady,  Beatrice  Signorini  by 
name.  Cardinal  Barberini  favored  the  match,  and  blessed 
the  bans.  .  .  .  Romanelli's  merits  soon  reached  the  ears  of 
the  King  of  France.  He  reluctantly  quitted  his  wife  and 
family,  to  whom  he  was  devotedly  attached.  .  .  .  The  Cardi- 
nal interceded  with  the  king  to  allow  Romanelli  to  return 
to  Rome,  as  his  absence  had  caused  his  wife  much  uneasi- 
ness. .  .  .  Romanelli  was  at  work  in  Rome  when  he  re- 
ceived news  that  Louis  XIV.,  who  was  now  reigning,  had 
chosen  him  to  help  add  lustre  to  the  magnificence  of  his 
reign.  So  he  again  set  out  for  Paris,  this  time  taking  his 
family  with  him,  and  was  warmly  received  by  the  king." 


48  Beatrice  Signorini. 

When  about  to  make  a  third  journey  to  France,  in  1662, 
Romanelli  died.  He  was  not  a  great  painter,  as  Browning 
correctly  indicates  ;  and  few  of  his  pictures  are  now  remem- 
bered as  having  any  special  value.  More  to  the  purpose 
is  Baldinucci's  statement  that  he  was  witty  in  speech  and 
graceful  in  manner,  and  of  a  noble  and  lofty  bearing.  "  His 
personal  influence  was  such  that  every  one  with  whom  he 
came  in  contact  was  charmed  and  fascinated  by  him.  Dur- 
ing his  sittings  he  always  conversed  with  his  subjects  and 
thus  kept  them  amused  and  interested  by  his  brilliant  con- 
versation and  his  lively  descriptions.  No  obscene  picture 
ever  issued  from  his  brush,  which  was  ever  inimical  to  a 
public  display  of  the  nude." 

Baldinucci's  sketch  of  Artemisia  Genteleschi  gives  the 
other  particulars  referred  to  in  the  poem.  The  family 
name  of  this  woman-artist  was  Lomi,  but  her  father,  also 
an  artist,  was  usually  called  Genteleschi,  from  the  surname 
of  an  uncle.  "  Artemisia  Genteleschi  was  the  daughter  of 
Orazio  Lomi,  a  Pisan  painter.  Artemisia  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  the  most  beautiful  woman  and  the  most  skillful 
female  painter  of  her  time.  She  married  Pier  Antonio 
Schiattesi.  She  learned  her  art  from  her  father,  and  began 
by  painting  portraits,  in  Rome,  Florence,  and  other  cities. 
She  painted  a  beautiful  picture  of  a  nude  woman  entitled 
Desire  for  Michelangelo,  the  younger,  in  commemoration 
of  the  glorious  achievements  of  his  ancestor,  the  great 
Buonarruoti  ;  but  Lionardo,  his  nephew  and  heir,  a  gentle- 
man of  great  modesty  and  decorum,  known  for  his  refine- 
ment, piety,  and  all  other  good  qualities,  wished  this  figure 
draped,  and  Baldassare  Volterrano  complied,  without  in  any 
way  lessening  the  beauty  of  the  picture." 

In  the  house  of  Gio.  Luigi  Arrighetti,  a  noble  Florentine, 
according  to  Baldinucci,  is  a  fine  picture  of  Aurora,  also 
nude.  In  the  Pitti  palace  are  two  pictures  from  the  hand 
of  Artemisia.  One  is  quite  large,  and  represents  The  Rape 
of  Proserpine.  Another  very  fine  picture  in  this  same  pal- 
ace is  a  life-size  Judith  and  Holofernes. 

"  Besides  portrait  painting,  Artemisia  had  great  talent 
for  reproducing  every  kind  of  fruit  [which  Browning  turns 
into  flowers],  imitating  nature  in  a  marvelous  fashion.  And 
at  this  point  we  must  mention  a  little  incident  which  took  place 


Beatrice  SignorinL  49 

in  the  life  of  Giovanni  Francesco  Romanelli  of  Viterbo,  pupil 
of  Cortona.  He  lived  and  painted  during  the  time  of  Urban 
VIII.,  and  was  held  in  great  favor  by  the  Barberini.  This 
painter  was  of  a  gay  and  amorous  disposition.  He  became 
deeply  attached  to  the  painter  Artemisia,  and  often  visited 
her  in  order  to  watch  her  working  at  her  art,  and  to  con- 
verse with  her  about  art  and  the  topics  of  the  day.  Ro- 
manelli wished  to  paint  her  portrait.  As  she  was  at  the 
height  of  her  art  in  fruit  painting  at  that  time,  he  desired 
her  to  paint  a  picture  filled  with  fruit,  and  to  leave  in  the 
centre  space  enough  for  the  portrait.  Artemisia  complied 
with  this  request,  and  made  a  charming  picture,  embellished 
by  fruits.  Romanelli  placed  in  the  centre  a  most  life-like 
and  lovely  portrait  of  Artemisia.  This  picture  he  kept  him- 
self, and  he  placed  more  value  on  it  than  on  all  the  presents 
he  had  received  from  prelates  and  princes  while  in  Rome. 
It  was  accordingly  hung  in  his  own  house  among  his  other 
pictures.  One  day  he  called  his  wife's  attention  to  it, 
pointed  out  the  portrait  of  Artemisia,  and  remarked  upon 
the  beauty  and  the  ingenuity  displayed  in  the  conception  of 
the  picture.  He  purposely  praised  all  the  virtues  of  Arte- 
misia, her  charming  manner,  her  vivacity  of  speech,  and  her 
lively  repartee.  This  he  did  in  order  to  excite  the  jealousy 
of  his  wife,  who  was  also  a  very  beautiful  woman.  The 
latter  took  occasion,  when  her  husband  was  out  of  the  house, 
to  pierce  and  entirely  destroy  the  face  of  Artemisia  with  a 
large  pin  (spillo),  so  that  it  could  not  be  recognized.  Ro- 
manelli, instead  of  showing  anger  at  this  proceeding,  was 
more  in  love  with  his  wife  than  ever,  and  from  that  time 
ceased  to  praise  or  make  mention  of  the  picture,  which  still 
is  in  possession  of  some  of  Romanelli's  heirs." 

In  her  youth  Artemisia  Genteleschi  visited  England 
with  her  father ;  she  was  liberally  patronized  by  Charles  I., 
and  she  painted  the  portraits  of  some  of  the  royal  family. 
She  is  mentioned  in  Walpole's  Anecdotes  of  Painting  in 
England.  She  seems  to  have  made  well  by  her  art  in  Eng- 
land, and  on  the  death  there  of  her  father  to  have  returned 
to  Italy.  She  lived  in  Naples,  and  died  there  in  1642,  at 
the  age  of  fifty-two.  Lanzi  says  her  pictures  show  variety 
of  style,  that  her  Judith  slaying  Holofernes  is  a  picture  of 
a  strong  coloring  and  of  a  tone  and  perspicuity  that  inspire 


50  Beer.  —  Bells  and  Pomegranates. 

awe.  He  says  she  was  more  celebrated  for  her  portraits, 
which  are  of  singular  merit ;  they  spread  her  fame  over 
all  Europe.  She  was  respected  for  her  talents,  and  cele- 
brated for  the  elegance  of  her  manners  and  appearance. 
Artemisia  was  assisted  and  improved  in  her  art  by  Guido 
Reni,  and  she  diligently  studied  the  works  of  Domenichino. 

Beer.     See  Nationality  in  Drinks. 

Before.  Men  and  Women,  1855  ;  Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dra- 
matic Lyrics,  1868. 

A  sequel  to  this  poem  is  to  be  found  in  After,  which 
poem  see.  The  leopard-dog-thing  at  his  side  is  thus  ex- 
plained by  Mr.  Nettleship  in  his  Essays  and  Thoughts  : 
"  Let  him  lap  himself  in  pleasure,  take  the  flowers  and  the 
fruits  of  this  life ;  for  all  that,  his  sin  will  ever  accompany 
him  like  a  leopard  at  his  side,  ready  to  spring  and  throttle 
him  at  any  moment."  An  interpretation  of  these  two  poems 
is  given  by  Mr.  Nettleship. 

Bells  and  Pomegranates.  This  is  the  title  given  to 
a  cheap  issue  of  Browning's  poem  begun  in  1841.  It  was 
probably  taken  from  a  description  of  the  priests'  robe  in 
Exodus  xxviii.  34,  where  it  was  required  that  the  robe 
should  have  on  the  hem  of  it  "  a  golden  bell  and  a  pome- 
granate." 

According  to  Mr.  Edmund  Gosse.  in  his  paper  on  The 
Early  Writings  of  Robert  Browning  published  in  The 
Century,  December,  1881,  reprinted  in  Personalia,  1890, 
the  earlier  works  of  the  poet  had  but  a  small  sale.  "  One 
day,"  says  Mr.  Gosse,  "  as  the  poet  was  discussing  the  matter 
with  Mr.  Edward  Moxon,  the  publisher,  the  latter  remarked 
that  at  that  time  he  was  bringing  out  some  editions  of  the 
old  Elizabethan  dramatists,  in  a  comparatively  cheap  form, 
and  that  if  Mr.  Browning  would  consent  to  print  his  poems 
as  pamphlets,  using  this  cheap  type,  the  expense  would  be 
very  inconsiderable.  The  poet  jumped  at  the  idea,  and  it 
was  agreed  that  each  poem  should  form  a  separate  brochure 
of  just  one  sheet,  —  sixteen  pages,  in  double  columns,  — 
the  entire  cost  of  which  should  not  exceed  twelve  or  fifteen 
pounds.  In  this  fashion  began  the  celebrated  series  of 
Bells  and  Pomegranates,  eight  numbers  of  which,  a  perfect 
treasury  of  fine  poetry,  came  out  successively  between  1841 
and  1846.  Pippa  Passes  led  the  way,  and  was  priced  first 


Bells  and  Pomegranates.  51 

at  sixpence  ;  then,  the  sale  being  inconsiderable,  at  a  shil- 
ling, which  greatly  encouraged  the  sale  ;  and  so,  slowly,  up 
to  half  a  crown,  at  which  the  price  of  each  number  finally 
rested." 

The  poems  issued  in  this  series  were  as  follows  :  I.  Pippa 
Passes,  1841.  II.  King  Victor  and  King  Charles,  1842. 
III.  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1842.  IV.  The  Return  of  the 
Druses,  1843.  V.  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  1843.  VI. 
Colombe's  Birthday,  1844.  VII.  Dramatic  Romances 
and  Lyrics,  1845.  VIII.  Luria  ;  and  A  Soul's  Tragedy ', 
1846.  With  the  first  number  appeared  the  preface  to  the 
whole  series,  in  the  following  form  : 

ADVEBTISEMENT. 

Two  or  three  years  ago  I  wrote  a  Play,  about  •which  the  chief 
matter  I  much  care  to  recollect  at  present  is,  that  a  Pitfull  of  good- 
natured  people  applauded  it :  ever  since,  I  have  been  desirous  of  do- 
ing something  in  the  same  way  that  should  better  reward  their  atten- 
tion. What  follows,  I  mean  for  the  first  of  a  series  of  Dramatical 
Pieces,  to  come  out  at  intervals ;  and  I  amuse  myself  by  fancying  that 
the  cheap  mode  in  which  they  appear,  will  for  once  help  me  to  a  sort 
of  Pit-audience  again.  Of  course  such  a  work  must  go  on  no  longer 
than  it  is  liked  ;  and  to  provide  against  a  too  certain  and  but  too  posi- 
ble  contingency,  let  me  hasten  to  say  now  — what,  if  I  were  sure  of 
success,  I  would  try  to  say  circumstantially  enough  at  the  close  —  that 
I  dedicate  my  best  intentions  most  admiringly  to  the  Author  of  Ion  — 
most  affectionately  to  Sergeant  Talfourd. 

EOBEKT  BROWNING. 

As  a  preface  of  the  last  issue  of  the  series  appeared  the 
following : 

"  Here  ends  my  first  series  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  and  I  take 
the  opportunity  of  explaining,  in  reply  to  inquiries,  that  I  only  meant 
by  that  title  to  indicate  an  endeavor  towards  something  like  an  alter- 
nation, or  mixture,  of  music  with  discoursing,  sound  with  sense, 
poetry  with  thought ;  which  looks  too  ambitious,  thus  expressed,  so 
the  symbol  was  preferred.  It  is  little  to  the  purpose,  that  such  is 
actually  one  of  the  most  familiar  of  the  many  Rabbinical  (and  Patris- 
tic) acceptations  of  the  phrase  ;  because  I  confess  that,  letting  author- 
ity alone,  I  supposed  the  bare  words,  in  such  juxtaposition,  would 
sufficiently  convey  the  desired  meaning.  '  Faith  and  good  works  '  is 
another  fancy,  for  instance,  and  perhaps  no  easier  to  arrive  at ;  yet 
Giotto  placed  a  pomegranate  fruit  in  the  hand  of  Dante,  and 
Raffaello  crowned  his  Theology  (in  the  Camera  della  Segnatura)  with 
blossoms  of  the  same  ;  as  if  the  Bellarl  and  Vasari  would  be  sure  to 
come  after,  and  explain  that  it  was  merely  '  simbolo  delle  buone  opere  — 
il  qual  Pomogranato  fu  perb  usato  nelle  veste  del  Pontefice  appresso  gli 
Ebrei.'  R.  B." 


52  Ben  I^arshooTc's  Wisdom. 

In  1849  was  published  Browning's  Poems,  in  two  vol- 
umes, only  Paracelsus  and  Bells  and  Pomegranates  being 
included.  They  were  prefaced  by  the  following  brief  state- 
ment : 

"  Many  of  these  pieces  -were  out  of  print,  the  rest  had  been  with- 
drawn from  circulation,  when  the  corrected  edition,  now  submitted 
to  the  reader,  was  prepared.  The  various  Poems  and  Dramas  have 
received  the  author's  most  careful  revision. 

"December,  1848." 

Bells  and  Pomegranates  was  printed  in  small  type  on 
poor  paper,  in  a  cheap  pamphlet  form ;  but  it  first  made 
the  poet  known,  and  gained  him  readers.  Two  or  three  of 
the  poems  attracted  wide  attention,  and  they  gave  Brown- 
ing a  position  as  a  poet. 

The  last  number  of  this  series  of  poems  was  dedicated 
to  Walter  Savage  Landor ;  and  when  it  was  sent  to  him  he 
wrote  to  Browning  a  letter  containing  these  words :  "  Ac- 
cept my  thanks  for  the  richest  of  Easter  offerings  made  to 
any  one  for  many  years.  I  stayed  at  home  last  evening  on 
purpose  to  read  Luria,  and  if  I  lost  any  good  music  (as  I 
certainly  did)  I  was  well  compensated  in  kind.  To-day  I 
intend  to  devote  the  ra'iny  hours  entirely  to  the  Soul's 
Tragedy."  He  also  made  the  following  poetic  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  kindness  shown  him  by  the  younger  poet  in 
thus  dedicating  to  him  one  of  his  works,  in  his  Works, 
1846: 

CCCXIII.    To  ROBERT  BROWNING. 

Shakespeare  is  not  our  poet,  but  the  world's, 

Therefore  on  him  no  speech  !  and  brief  for  thee, 

Browning1 !    Since  Chaucer  was  alive  and  hale, 

No  man  has  walked  along  our  roads  with  step 

So  active,  so  inquiring  eye,  or  tongue 

So  varied  in  discourse.     But  warmer  climes 

Give  brighter  plumage,  stronger  wing  :  the  breeze 

Of  Alpine  heights  thon  playest  with,  borne  on 

Beyond  Sorrento  and  Amalfi,  where 

The  Siren  waits  thee,  singing  song  for  song. 

Ben  Karshook's  Wisdom.  This  poem  was  written 
at  Rome,  in  April,  1854  ;  and  it  was  first  printed  in  an  an- 
nual called  The  Keepsake,  edited  by  Miss  Power,  in  1856. 
It  has  not  been  included  by  Browning  in  any  edition  of  his 
poems ;  but  it  is  printed  in  the  Browning  Bibliography, 


Bernard  de  Mandeville.  58 

p.  56,  and  in  the  appendix  to  the  Riverside  edition  of  1888. 
It  would  appear  that  Browning  intended  to  include  it  in 
Men  and  Women,  for  in  One  Word  More,  lines  135,  136, 
he  says, 

"  I  am  mine  and  yours  —  the  rest  be  all  men's, 
Karshook,  Cleon,  Norbert,  and  the  fifty.' ' 

In  1872  this  defect  was  remedied  by  changing  "  Kar- 
shook "  to  "  Karshish"  in  this  place,  the  latter  being  the  name 
of  the  narrator  of  one  of  the  longer  poems  in  the  volume.  In 
Hebrew  "  Karshook  "  means  "  thistle."  The  reference  in 
the  last  verse  is  to  1  Kings  vii.  13-22,  where  Hiram  is  de- 
scribed as  a  dexterous  worker  in  brass  on  Solomon's  temple. 

BEN  KARSHOOK'S  WISDOM. 

I. 

"  Would  a  man  'scape  the  rod  ?  " 

Rabbi  Ben  Karshook  saith, 
"  See  that  he  turn  to  God 

The  day  before  his  death." 

"  Ay,  could  a  man  inquire 

When  it  shall  come  !  "  I  say. 
The  Rabbi's  eye  shoots  fire  — 
' '  Then  let  him  turn  to-day !  " 

II. 

Quoth  a  young  Sadducee : 

"  Reader  of  many  rolls, 
Is  it  so  certain  we 

Have,  as  they  tell  us,  souls  ?  " 

"  Son,  there  is  no  reply  !  " 

The  Rabbi  bit  his  beard  : 
"  Certain,  a  soul  have  I — 

We  may  have  none,"  he  sneered. 

Thus  Karshook,  the  Hiram's-Hammer, 

The  Right-hand  Temple-column, 
Taught  babes  in  grace  their  grammar, 

And  struck  the  simple,  solemn. 
Rome,  April  27, 1854. 

Bernard  de  Mandeville,  Parleyings  with.  Par- 
leyings  with  Certain  People  of  Importance  in  their  Day, 
1887. 

Bernard  de  Mandeville  was  born  at  Rotterdam,  Holland, 


54  Bernard  de  Mandeville. 

in  1670,  his  father  being  a  physician.  He  studied  at  Ley- 
den,  and  took  the  degree  of  medicine  in  1691.  He  then 
went  to  London,  and  settled  there  as  a  physician  ;  but  he 
had  little  practice.  He  wrote  several  works  of  a  satirical 
nature,  which  may  be  found  enumerated  in  Davenport 
Adam's  Dictionary  of  English  Literature.  In  1705,  in 
the  midst  of  a  heated  political  contest,  he  published  The 
Crrumbling  Hive,  or  Knaves  Turned  Honest.  It  was  a 
political  jeu  d'esprit,  a  defense  of  the  Duke  of  Marlbo- 
rough  in  regard  to  the  wars  he  was  then  carrying  on,  intend- 
ing to  show  that  the  ambition  of  that  great  general  and  his 
followers,  much  inveighed  against  by  party  opponents,  was 
in  reality  a  public  benefit.  Charges  of  bribery,  peculation 
and  dishonesty  were  made  against  the  party  in  office  ;  and 
that  the  war  was  continued  for  private  ends. 

Mandeville  defended  the  war  by  attempting  to  prove  that 
ambition,  greed  of  office  and  individual  sell-seeking  are 
necessary  to  the  prosperity  of  the  State.  He  claimed  that 
private  vices  are  public  benefits,  because  they  increase  the 
volume  of  trade.  This  poem  was  little  more  than  doggerel 
as  to  its  literary  form,  all  its  interest  being  in  its  paradoxi- 
cal ethical  statements.  It  was  a  satire  of  an  audacious  kind, 
having  a  small  amount  of  grim  humor  in  it. 

In  1714  this  poem  appeared  with  a  prose  commentary,  in 
which  the  author  more  fully  explained  his  views.  In  1723  it 
was  reprinted  as  The  Fable  of  the  Bees,  or  Private  Vices, 
Public  Benefits.  He  published  with  it  a  severe  attack  on 
charity  schools,  then  greatly  in  favor  among  the  wealthy  and 
philanthropic.  He  maintained  that  these  schools  trained 
the  children  of  the  poorer  classes  to  become  cheats  and 
knaves.  His  book  was  indicted  before  the  grand  jury  of 
Middlesex  county  for  its  immoral  teachings.  His  theories 
were  attacked  by  Berkeley,  Law,  Hutcheson,  Warburton,  and 
others  ;  and  by  the  moralists  of  the  day  he  was  regarded 
as  a  most  pernicious  writer. 

Mandeville's  personal  character  was  not  above  reproach, 
for  he  visited  coffee-houses  and  amused  their  frequenters  by 
ribald  conversation.  It  is  charged  that  he  was  hired  by 
distillers  to  write  in  favor  of  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquors. 
He  was  patronized  by  Lord  Macclesfield,  at  whose  table  the 
conversation,  which  he  led,  was  of  the  loosest.  There  Addi- 


Bernard  de  Mandeville.  55 

son  met  the  satirist,  who  called  the  great  poet  "  a  parson  in 
tie  wig,"  a  circumstance  to  which  Browning  refers.  On  one 
occasion,  when  Mandeville  was  gross  in  his  conversation, 
a  clergyman  told  him  that  "  his  name  bespoke  his  character 
—  Man-deville,  or  a  devil  of  a  man."  His  writings  are 
also  coarse  and  vulgar,  but  not  more  so  than  many  others 
of  the  time. 

Mandeville's  chief  idea  was  one  frequently  put  forward 
during  the  eighteenth  century.  It  is,  that  religion  and 
morality  are  the  invention  of  priests  and  rulers,  to  keep  the 
mass  of  the  people  under  their  influence  by  the  means  of 
credulity.  He  bitterly  opposed  asceticism,  and  he  main- 
tained that  what  we  call  virtue  is  only  selfishness  putting  on 
a  garb  in  which  to  be  more  successful.  He  also  held  that 
consumption,  not  saving,  is  a  public  benefit.  "  He  that 
gives  most  trouble  to  thousands  of  his  neighbors,"  he  said, 
"  and  invents  the  most  operose  manufacturies  is,  right  or 
wrong,  the  greatest  benefit  to  society."  He  said  again : 
"  What  we  call  evil  in  this  world,  moral  as  well  as  natural, 
is  the  grand  principle  that  makes  us  social  creatures,  the 
solid  basis,  the  light  and  support  of  all  trades  without  ex- 
ception." 

It  was  the  eccentric  idea  of  Mandeville,  as  Sidgwick  ex- 
presses it,  "  that  moral  regulation  is  something  alien  to  the 
natural  man  and  imposed  on  him  from  without."  Ueherweg 
states  his  doctrine  in  these  words :  "  What  is  called  a  vice 
is  in  fact  a  public  benefit.  There  is  no  distinction  between 
the  moral  impulses  or  springs  of  action.  Each  in  its  place 
is  natural  and  legitimate,  and  the  general  welfare  is  best 
promoted  by  giving  indulgence  to  all.  The  restraints  on 
human  desires  and  passions  by  the  magistrate  and  the  priest 
are  factitious  and  unnatural.  Any  restraint  upon  private 
vices  is  simply  usurpation." 

A  man  of  an  acute  mind  Mandeville  certainly  was ;  but 
he  was  misled  by  his  paradoxical  ideas.  He  saw  a  few 
things  with  an  acute  penetration  of  thought ;  but  he  stated 
them  in  a  way  to  mislead.  He  saw  that  evil  is  relative  in  its 
nature,  and  that  it  serves  a  purpose  of  good  in  the  universe. 
This  is  an  idea  frequently  put  forward  in  our  day,  and  by 
no  one  more  strongly  than  by  Browning,  who  has  stated  it 
in  many  of  his  poems. 


56     Bifurcation.  —  The  Bishop  orders  his  Tomb. 

In  Leslie  Stephen's  History  of  English  Thought  in  the 
Eighteenth  Century,  vol.  ii.  p.  23,  will  be  found  the  best 
account  of  Mandeville's  ethical  and  philosophical  theories. 

See  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  and  essay  by 
Arthur  Symons  in  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number 
nine. 

Bifurcation.     First  published  in  Pacchiarotto,  in  1876. 

The  speaker  is  a  man,  and  he  describes  his  love  experi- 
ences. The  woman  he  loved,  when  there  came  a  division 
between  love  and  duty,  took  the  way  of  duty  ;  but  with  the 
declaration  that  she  would  be  true  to  him  until  the  next  life, 
when  they  will  be  united,  duty  and  love  having  become  one. 
In  choosing  duty  instead^of  love,  however,  she  takes  the 
easier  path,  while  he  has  to  stumble  along  a  way  that  is 
hard  and  difficult.  Evidently  the  sympathies  of  the  poet 
are  on  the  side  of  the  speaker. 

Bishop  Blougram's  Apology.  Men  and  Women, 
1855. 

The  speaker  is  a  Catholic  bishop,  sixty  years  of  age ;  and 
he  is  addressing  Gigadibs,  a  literary  man  of  thirty.  The 
poem  is  not  historical ;  but  it  is  understood  that  Mr.  Brown- 
ing had  in  mind  Cardinal  Wiseman  when  he  was  giving  to 
the  bishop  his  being  and  character.  In  The  Rambler,  a 
London  Catholic  journal,  for  January,  1856,  a  review  of 
Men  and  Women  appeared,  which  has  been  attributed  to 
the  pen  of  Cardinal  Wiseman.  It  praises  Bishop  Blou- 
gram's Apology  for  its  "  fertility  of  illustration  and  felicity 
of  argument."  It  says  the  poem,  "  though  utterly  mistaken 
in  the  very  groundwork  of  religion,  though  starting  from 
the  most  unworthy  notions  of  the  work  of  a  Catholic  bishop, 
and  defending  a  self  indulgence  every  honest  man  must  feel 
to  be  disgraceful,  is  yet  in  its  way  triumphant." 

See  Browning  Society's  Papers,  part  three,  1 :  279  and 
1 :  33*,  where  is  published  a  careful  analysis  by  Prof.  E. 
Johnson. 

Bishop,  The,  orders  his  Tomb  at  St.  Praxed's 
Church.  This  poem  was  first  published  in  Hood's  Maga- 
zine, March,  1845,  with  the  title,  The  Tomb  at  St.  Prax- 
ed's (Rome,  15  — ).  During  the  same  year  it  was  published 
in  Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics,  number  seven  of  Bells 
and  Pomegranates,  as  The  Tomb  at  St.  Praxed's.  In  the 


The  Bishop  orders  his  Tomb.  57 

Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  classed  under  the  head  of 
Men  and  Women,  and  was  given  the  present  title. 

St.  Praxedis  or  Praxedes  was  an  early  Christian  saint, 
who  lived  about  the  time  of  Antoninus  Pius.  Praxedes  and 
Pudentiana  were  daughters  of  Pudens,  a  Roman  senator, 
the  friend  of  St.  Paul,  and  who  is  mentioned  in  2  Timothy 
iv.  21.  They  spent  their  lives  in  works  of  charity  and  in 
giving  aid  to  the  persecuted  Christians.  See  an  account  of 
them  in  Mrs.  Jameson's  Sacred  and  Legendary  Art.  The 
house  of  Pudens  is  said  to  have  been  used  by  St.  Peter  as 
a  place  of  worship.  Churches  were  early  built  to  the 
memory  of  both  these  good  women,  that  to  St.  Praxedes 
on  the  spot  where  the  house  of  Pudens  was  located.  In 
499  an  oratory  was  built  over  her  grave  in  Rome  by  Pius 
I.  This  building  having  been  destroyed  in  822,  the  present 
church  was  built  by  Paschal  I.  Mr.  Rolfe  says  of  her 
church :  "  During  the  absence  of  the  popes  at  Avignon  it 
fell  to  ruin,  but  was  restored  by  Nicholas  V.,  in  the  fif- 
teenth century,  and  by  St.  Charles  Borromeo  in  1564. 
The  mosaics  of  the  church  are  especially  remarkable.  All 
the  stone-work  is  of  the  rarest.  The  tribune  is  ascended 
by  a  flight  of  steps  composed  of  large  slabs  of  rosso  antico. 
The  pillars  on  each  side  of  the  high  altar  are  of  white  mar 
ble  beautifully  carved  with  foliage.  St.  Praxed's  slab  (on 
which  she  slept)  is  of  nerobianco  granite.  One  of  the 
chapels  is  entered  by  a  doorway  formed  of  two  columns 
of  the  rare  black  porphyry  and  granite,  supporting  an 
elaborately  sculptured  frieze.  The  outer  and  inner  walls 
are  covered  by  mosaics.  From  their  richness  this  chapel 
was  called  Orto  del  Paradiso,  or  the  Garden  of  Paradise. 
It  contains  one  of  the  most  celebrated  relics  in  Rome  —  the 
column  to  which  Christ  was  bound.  It  is  a  curious  fact 
that  so  elaborate  a  church  should  have  risen  in  honor  of  a 
maiden  whose  distinguishing  virtue  was  her  simplicity.  To 
complete  the  contrast,  to-day  no  woman  is  allowed  to  enter 
this  rich  chapel  except  on  Sundays  in  Lent.  At  other 
times  they  can  only  look  into  it  through  a  grating.  Oppo- 
site the  side  entrance  to  the  Orto  del  Paradiso  is  the  tomb 
of  Cardinal  Cetive  (1474)  with  his  sleeping  figure,  which 
reminds  us  of  the  Bishop's  design  for  his  tomb,  whereon  he 
is  to  lie  through  centuries." 


58  The  Bishop  orders  his  Tomb. 

The  Bishop's  tomb  has  no  existence  in  this  church,  unless 
it  may  have  been  suggested  by  that  of  Cardinal  Cetive.  It 
was  invented  by  Browning,  as  was  the  Bishop  himself.  The 
.aim  of  the  poem  evidently  is  to  bring  out  some  of  the  lead- 
ing characteristics  of  the  Renaissance,  as  they  had  an  influ- 
ence on  the  Church,  and  on  the  lives  of  its  leading  ecclesias- 
tics. The  value  of  the  poem  as  a  picture  of  that  period  has 
been  well  stated  by  Mr.  Ruskin,  in  his  Modern  Painters, 
vol.  iv.  chap.  xx.  sections  32  and  34 : 

"  Robert  Browning  is  unerring  in  every  sentence  he 
writes  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  always  vital,  right,  and  pro- 
found ;  so  that  in  the  matter  of  art  there  is  hardly  a  prin- 
ciple connected  with  the  medieval  temper,  that  he  has  not 
struck  upon  in  those  seemingly  careless  and  too  rugged 
rhymes  of  his.  There  is  a  curious  instance,  by  the  way,  in 
a  short  poem  referring  to  this  very  subject  of  tomb  and 
image  sculpture ;  and  illustrating  just  one  of  those  phases 
of  local  human  character  which,  though  belonging  to  Shake- 
spere's  own  age,;he  never  noticed,  because  it  was  specially 
Italian  and  un-English ;  connected  also  closely  with  the  in- 
fluence of  mountains  on  the  heart,  and  therefore  with  our 
immediate  inquiries.  I  mean  the  kind  of  admiration  with 
which  a  southern  artist  regarded  the  stone  he  worked  in ; 
and  the  pride  which  populace  or  priest  took  in  the  posses- 
sion of  precious  mountain  substance,  worked  into  the  pave- 
ments of  their  cathedrals,  and  the  shafts  of  their  tombs. 

"  Observe,  Shakespere,  in  the  midst  of  architecture  and 
tombs  of  wood,  or  freestone,  or  brass,  naturally  thinks  of 
gold  as  the  best  enriching  and  ennobling  substance  for 
them ;  —  in  the  midst  also  of  the  fever  of  the  Renaissance 
he  writes,  as  every  one  else  did,  in  praise  of  precisely  the 
most  vicious  master  of  that  school  —  Giulio  Romano ;  but 
the  modern  poet,  living  much  in  Italy,  and  quite  of  the 
Renaissance  influence,  is  able  fully  to  enter  into  the  Italian 
feeling,  and  to  see  the  evil  of  the  Renaissance  tendency,  not 
because  he  is  greater  than  Shakespere,  but  because  he  is  in 
another  element,  and  has  seen  other  things." 

After  two  liberal  quotations  from  the  poem,  descriptive 
of  the  church  and  its  marble  and  granite  decorations,  Mr. 
Ruskin  speaks  especially  of  this  poem  as  bearing  on  the  age 
which  it  describes : 


The  Bishop  orders  his  Tomb.  59 

"  I  know  no  other  piece  of  modern  English,  prose  or 
poetry,  in  which  there  is  so  much  told,  as  in  these  lines,  of 
the  Renaissance  spirit,  —  its  worldliness,  inconsistency,  pride, 
hypocrisy,  ignorance  of  itself,  love  of  art,  of  luxury,  and  of 
good  Latin.  It  is  nearly  all  that  I  said  of  the  central  Re- 
naissance in  thirty  pages  of  the  Stones  of  Venice,  put  into 
as,  many  lines,  Browning's  being  also  the  antecedent  work. 
The  worst  of  it  is  that  this  kind  of  concentrated  writing 
needs  so  much  solution  before  the  reader  can  fairly  get  the 
good  of  it,  that  people's  patience  fails  them,  and  they  give 
the  thing  up  as  insoluble ;  though,  truly,  it  ought  to  be  to 
the  current  of  common  thought  like  Saladin's  talisman, 
dipped  in  clear  water,  not  soluble  altogether,  but  making 
the  element  medicinal." 

This  poem  is  a  subtle  interpretation  of  a  medieval  case 
of  self-deceit.  A  Bishop  on  his  death-bed  calls  his  sons 
(ostensibly  nephews,  in  accordance  with  a  custom  of  the 
time,  which  allowed  ecclesiastics  to  have  wives  in  fact,  but 
not  in  name)  about  him  to  request  of  them  the  erection  of 
a  beautiful  monument  over  his  grave.  His  aesthetic  taste, 
his  selfishness  and  love  of  luxury,  his  hatred  of  a  rival,  and 
his  fear  that  the  greed  of  his  sons  will  cause  them  to  disre- 
gard his  request  are  all  most  faithfully  depicted  in  the  words 
of  the  dying  prelate.  The  Bishop's  beautiful  mistress,  whom 
Gandolf,  his  predecessor  in  the  bishop's  chair,  had  tried  to 
take  from  him,  the  death  of  Gandolf  and  his  securing  the 
place  where  the  Bishop  meant  to  have  had  his  own  tomb 
erected,  the  Bishop's  love  of  beauty  for  its  sensual  delight, 
his  yearning  to  have  his  burial  place  marked  with  the  finest 
of  tombs,  and  the  selfish  refusal  of  his  sons  to  waste  money 
on  the  dead  bishop,  are  graphically  described  in  his  dying 
address  to  his  sons. 

The  Tully  of  this  poem  was  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero,  while 
Ulpian  was  a  Roman  jurist  who  lived  from  170  to  228 
A.  D.  Elucescebat  is  wrongly  formed  from  elucere,  and  has 
the  meaning,  in  an  epitaph,  of  "  noted  "  or  "  notable."  Mr. 
Rolfe  says  that  Frascati  is  now  "  a  favorite  resort,  twelve 
miles  from  Rome,  on  the  slope  of  the  Alban  hills.  It  was 
built  in  1191  on  the  ruins  of  a  villa  overgrown  with  under- 
wood (frasche),  whence  its  name."  He  says  of  the  expres- 
sion "  the  Father's  globe  "  :  "  In  the  great  Jesuit  church  in 


60  A  Slot  in  the  'Scutcheon. 

Rome,  the  altar  of  St.  Ignatius  is  adorned  with  a  group  of 
the  Trinity  by  Bernardino  Ludovisi.  The  Father  holds  a 
globe,  which  is  said  to  be  the  largest  piece  of  lapislazuli  in 
existence."  Of  the  antique-black  basalt  the  Bishop  asks  for 
the  slab  of  his  tomb,  Mr.  Ruskin  says  :  "  Nero  antico  is  more 
familiar  to  our  ears ;  but  Browning  does  right  in  translating 
it ;  as  afterwards  cipollino  into  '  onion-stone.'  Our  stupid 
habit  of  using  foreign  words  without  translating  is  continu- 
ally losing  us  half  the  force  of  the  foreign  language.  How 
many  travelers  hearing  the  term  cipollino  recognize  the  in- 
tended sense  of  a  stone  splitting  into  concentric  coats,  like 
an  onion?" 

In  his  Select  Poems  Rolfe  gives  notes  and  comments. 

Blind  Man  to  the  Maiden,  The.  In  Mrs.  Clara  Bell's 
translation  of  Wilhelmine  von  Hillern's  novel,  The  Hour 
Will  Come,  a  little  poem  rendered  into  English  verse  is 
attributed  to  the  pen  of  a  friend.  This  anonymous  friend 
was  Browning.  His  version  was  reprinted  in  the  White- 
hall Review  for  March  1,  1883,  and  in  the  fourth  number 
of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers. 

The  blind  man  to  the  maiden  said, 

' '  0  thou  of  hearts  the  truest, 
Thy  countenance  is  hid  from  me  ; 
Let  not  my  question  anger  thee  ! 

Speak,  though  in  words  the  fewest. 

"  Tell  me,  what  kind  of  eyes  are  thine  ? 

Dark  eyes,  or  light  ones  rather  ?  " 
"  My  eyes  are  a  decided  brown  — 
So  much,  at  least,  by  looking  down, 

From  the  brook's  glass  I  gather." 

"  And  is  it  red  —  thy  little  mouth  ? 

That  too  the  blind  must  care  for." 
"  Ah !  I  -would  tell  it  soon  to  thee, 
Only  —  none  yet  has  told  it  me. 

I  cannot  answer,  therefore. 

"  But  dost  thou  ask  what  heart  I  have  — 

There  hesitate  I  ne.ver. 
In  thine  own  breast  't  is  borne,  and  so 
'Tis  thine  in  weal,  and  thine  in  woe, 
For  life,  for  death  —  thine  ever!  " 

Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  A.    The  history  of  the  writing 
and  stage  production  of  this  drama  has  been  so  well  told  by 


A  Slot  in  the  '/Scutcheon.  61 

Mr.  Edmund  Gosse,  in  his  paper  on  The  Early  Writings 
of  Robert  Browning,  reprinted  in  Personalia,  that  he  will 
be  allowed  to  retell  it  here.  After  mentioning  the  great 
success  of  Macready  on  the  stage,  and  his  taking  the  man- 
agement of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  his  embarrassed  financial 
condition  is  described  in  connection  with  new  plays  brought 
out  by  him.  "  But,  in  the  mean  time,"  says  Mr.  Gosse, 
"  Mr.  Browning,  who  had  been  asked  by  Macready  to  write 
a  play  for  him,  had  devised  and  composed,  in  the  space  of 
five  days,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  his  works,  A 
Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon.  This  had  been  received,  and  de- 
light had  been  expressed  by  Macready  on  reading  it.  The 
author  was,  therefore,  surprised  that  on  the  withdrawal  of 
Plighted  Troth  (a  play  written  by  George  Darley),  he  re- 
ceived no  invitation,  in  accordance  with  etiquette,  to  read 
it  aloud  to  the  actors  previous  to  rehearsal.  He  had  no 
inkling  whatever  of  Macready's  embarrassments,  and  not 
the  slightest  notion  that  it  was  hoped  that  he  would  with- 
draw the  piece.  At  last,  on  Saturday,  the  4th  of  February, 
1843,  Macready  called  Mr.  Browning  into  his  private  room, 
and  said  to  him  :  — 

"  '  Your  play  was  read  to  the  actors  yesterday,  and  they 
received  it  with  shouts  of  laughter.' 

"  « Who  read  it  ?  ' 

"  '  Oh,  Mr.  Wilmot.' 

"  Now,  Wilmot  was  the  prompter,  a  broadly  comic  per- 
sonage with  a  wooden  leg  and  a  very  red  face,  whose  vulgar 
sallies  were  the  delight  of  all  the  idle  jesters  that  hung  about 
the  theatre.  That  such  a  drama  as  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutch- 
eon should  be  given  to  Wilmot  to  read  was  simply  an  in- 
sult, and  one  of  which  Mr.  Browning  did  not  conceal  his 
perception.  Macready  saw  his  mistake,  and  said :  '  Wilmot 
is  a  ridiculous  being,  of  course.  On  Monday  I  myself  will 
read  it  to  the  actors.'  On  Monday,  accordingly,  he  read  it, 
but  he  announced  to  Mr.  Browning  that  he  should  not  act  in 
it  himself,  but  that  Phelps,  then  quite  a  new  man,  would 
take  the  principal  part.  This  was  an  unheard-of  thing  in 
those  days,  when  it  was  supposed  that  Macready  was  abso- 
lutely essential  to  a  new  tragedy.  Of  course  his  hope  was 
that  Mr.  Browning  would  say  :  '  You  not  play  in  it  ?  Then, 
of  course,  I  withdraw  it.'  But  the  actor's  manner  was  so 


62  A  Slot  in  the  'Scutcheon. 

far  from  suggesting  that  truth  that  the  poet  never  suspected 
the  real  state  of  the  case.  He  accepted  Phelps,  but  when 
the  rehearsal  began  on  Tuesday,  Phelps  was  very  ill  with 
English  cholera,  and  could  not  be  present,  so  Macready 
read  his  part  for  him.  On  Wednesday  Mr.  Browning  no- 
ticed that  Macready  was  not  merely  reading,  he  was  re- 
hearsing the  part,  moving  across  the  stage,  and  counting  his 
steps.  When  Mr.  Browning  arrived  on  Thursday,  there 
was  poor  Phelps  sitting  close  to  the  door,  as  white  as  a 
sheet,  evidently  very  poorly.  Macready  began :  '  As  Mr. 
Phelps  is  so  ill  —  you  are  very  ill,  are  you  not,  Mr.  Phelps  ? 
—  it  will  be  impossible  for  him  to  master  his  part  by  Satur- 
day, and  I  shall  therefore  take  it  myself.'  Mr.  Browning 
was  not  at  all  pleased  with  this  shuffling,  for  which  he  could 
divine  no  cause,  and  he  was  still  more  annoyed  by  the 
changes  which  were  being  made  in  the  poem.  The  title  was 
to  be  changed  to  The  Sisters,  the  first  act  was  to  be  cut 
out,  and  it  was  to  end  without  any  tragic  finale,  but  with 
these  sublime  lines,  due  to  the  unaided  genius  of  Macready 
alone  :  — 

'  Within  a  monastery's  solitude 
Penance  and  prayer  shall  wear  my  life  away.' 

"  Mr.  Browning  was  determined,  if  possible,  to  check  this 
wanton  sacrifice  of  the  poem,  and  so  he  took  the  MS.  to  his 
publisher  Moxon,  who  also  had  a  quarrel  with  Macready, 
and  who  was  therefore  only  too  pleased  to  cooperate  in  his 
confusion.  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  was  printed  in  a  few 
hours,  in  a  single  sheet,  as  part  five  of  Sells  and  Pome- 
granates, and  was  in  the  hands  of  each  of  the  actors  be- 
fore Mr.  Browning  reached  the  theatre  on  Friday  morning. 
As  he  entered,  he  met  Phelps,  who  was  waiting  for  him  at 
the  door,  and  who  said  : 

"  '  It  is  true,  sir,  that  I  have  been  ill,  but  I  am  better 
now,  and  if  you  choose  to  give  the  part  to  me,  which  I  can 
hardly  expect  you  to  do,  I  should  be  able  to  act  it  to-morrow 
night.' 

"  '  But  is  it  possible,'  said  Mr.  Browning,  '  that  you  could 
learn  it  so  soon  ?  ' 

"  '  Yes,'  answered  Phelps,  '  I  should  sit  up  all  night  and 
know  it  perfectly.' 


A  Blot  in  the  ''Scutcheon.  63 

"  Mr.  Browning's  determination  was  soon  taken  ;  he  took 
Phelps  with  him  into  the  green  -  room,  where  Macready 
was  already  studying  the  play  in  its  printed  form,  with  the 
actors  round  him.  Mr.  Browning  stopped  him,  and  said  : 

"  '  I  find  that  Mr.  Phelps,  although  he  has  been  ill,  feels 
himself  quite  able  to  take  the  part,  and  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  leave  it  in  his  hands.'  Macready  rose  and  said  : 

"  *  But  do  you  understand  that  I,  /,  am  going  to  act  the 
part  ?  ' 

" '  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  intrust  it  to  Mr.  Phelps,'  said 
Mr.  Browning,  upon  which  Macready  crumpled  up  the  play 
he  was  holding  in  his  hand,  and  threw  it  to  the  other  end 
of  the  room. 

"  After  such  an  event,  it  was  with  no  very  hopeful  feel- 
ings that  Mr.  Browning  awaited  the  first  performance  on 
the  next  night,  February  llth.  He  would  not  allow  his 
parents  or  his  sister  to  go  to  the  theatre ;  no  tickets  were 
sent  to  him,  but  finding  that  the  stage-box  was  his,  not  by 
favor,  but  by  right,  he  went  with  no  other  companion  than 
Mr.  Edward  Moxon.  But  his  expectations  of  failure  were 
not  realized.  Phelps  acted  magnificently,  carrying  out  the 
remark  of  Macready,  that  the  difference  between  himself 
and  the  other  actors  was  that  they  could  do  magnificent 
things  now  and  then,  on  a  spurt,  but  that  he  could  always 
command  his  effects.  Anderson,  a  jeune  premier  of  prom- 
ise, acted  the  young  lover  with  considerable  spirit,  although 
the  audience  was  not  quite  sure  whether  to  laugh  or  no 
when  he  sang  his  song,  '  There  's  a  Woman  like  a  Dewdrop,' 
in  the  act  of  climbing  in  the  window.  Finally,  Miss  Helen 
Faucit  almost  surpassed  herself  in  Mildred  Tresham.  The 
piece  was  entirely  successful,  though  Mr.  R.  H.  Home, 
who  was  in  the  front  of  the  pit,  tells  me  that  Anderson  was 
for  some  time  only  half-serious,  and  quite  ready  to  have 
turned  traitor  if  the  public  had  encouraged  him.  When 
the  curtain  went  down  the  applause  was  vociferous.  Phelps 
was  called  and  recalled,  and  then  there  rose  the  cry  of 
'  Author  ! '  To  this  Mr.  Browning  remained  silent  and  out 
of  sight,  and  the  audience  continued  to  shout  until  Ander- 
son came  forward,  and  keeping  his  eye  on  Mr.  Browning, 
said,  '  I  believe  that  the  author  is  not  present,  but  if  he  is  I 
entreat  him  to  come  forward ! '  The  poet,  however,  turned 


64  A  Slot  in  the  '/Scutcheon. 

a  deaf  ear  to  this  appeal,  and  went  home  very  sore  with 
Macready,  and  what  he  considered  his  purposeless  and  vex- 
atious schemings.  A  Slot  in  the  'Scutcheon  was  an- 
nounced to  be  played  'three  times  a  week  until  further 
notice ' ;  was  performed  with  entire  success  to  crowded 
houses,  until  the  final  collapse  of  Macready's  schemes 
brought  it  abruptly  to  a  close. 

"  Such  is  the  true  story  of  an  event  on  which  Macready 
in  his  journals  has  kept  an  obstinate  silence,  and  which  one 
erring  critic  after  another  has  chronicled  as  the  failure,  '  as 
a  matter  of  course,'  of  Mr.  Browning's  '  improbable  '  play. 
Neither  on  its  first  appearance,  nor  when  Phelps  revived  it 
at  Sadler's  Wells,  was  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  received 
by  the  public  otherwise  than  with  warm  applause.  As  in 
the  case  of  Strafford,  a  purely  accidental  circumstance,  un- 
connected with  Mr.  Browning,  cut  it  short  in  the  midst  of  a 
successful  run." 

In  his  diary  Macready  makes  the  briefest  allusions  to 
A  Slot  in  the  'Scutcheon.  February  4,  he  says  it  is  in 
rehearsal ;  on  the  6th  he  mentions  Phelps'  illness  and  his 
own  reading  of  the  play  in  his  place,  and  on  the  llth  its 
production.  The  notices  of  the  play  given  at  the  time  in 
the  newspapers  do  not  fully  sustain  Mr.  Gosse's  account. 
The  Literary  Gazette  said  that  after  the  first  night,  its  suc- 
cess was  doubtful,  and  that  its  inherent  faults  were  fatal. 
"  At  the  end,"  it  said,  "  the  applause  greatly  predominated ; 
but  still  we  cannot  promise  the  Slot  that  it  will  not  soon  be 
wiped  off  the  stage."  The  Examiner  spoke  of  causes  in 
the  subject  itself  that  might  give  the  play  a  short  existence 
on  the  stage  ;  but  its  notice  was  very  favorable.  "  We  are 
not  sanguine  of  the  chances  of  continued  patronage  to  A 
Slot  in  the  'Scutcheon.  People  are  already  finding  out,  we 
see,  that  there  is  a  great  deal  that  is  equivocal  in  its  senti- 
ments, a  vast  quantity  of  mere  artifice  in  its  situations,  and 
in  its  general  composition  not  much  to  '  touch  humanity.' 
We  do  not  pretend  to  know  what  should  touch  humanity, 
beyond  that  which  touchejs  our  own  hearts,  but  we  would 
give  little  for  the  feelings  of  a  man  who  could  read  this 
tragedy  without  a  deep  emotion.  It  is  very  sad  ;  painfully 
and  perhaps  needlessly  so  ;  but  it  is  unutterably  tender,  pas- 
sionate, and  true." 


A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon.  65 

John  Forster  read  the  play  in  manuscript,  which  he  sent 
to  Dickens  for  his  perusal.  In  a  letter  to  Forster,  dated 
November  25,  1842,  Dickens  wrote  :  "  Browning's  play  has 
thrown  me  into  a  perfect  passion  of  sorrow.  To  say  that 
there  is  anything  in  its  subject  save  what  is  lovely,  true, 
deeply  affecting,  full  of  the  best  emotion,  the  most  earnest 
feeling,  and  the  most  true  and  tender  source  of  interest,  is 
to  say  that  there  is  no  light  in  the  sun,  and  no  heat  in  blood. 
It  is  full  of  genius,  natural  and  great  thoughts,  profound 
and  yet  simple,  and  yet  beautiful  in  its  vigor.  I  know  no- 
thing that  is  so  affecting,  nothing  in  any  book  I  have  ever 
read,  as  Mildred's  recurrence  to  that  '  I  was  so  young  —  I 
had  no  mother.'  I  know  no  love  like  it,  no  passion  like  it, 
no  moulding  of  a  splendid  thing  after  its  conception,  like  it. 
And  I  swear  it  is  a  tragedy  that  must  be  played  :  and  must 
be  played,  moreover,  by  Macready.  There  are  some  things 
I  would  have  changed  if  I  could  (they  are  very  slight, 
mostly  broken  lines)  ;  and  I  assuredly  would  have  the  old 
servant  begin  his  tale  upon  the  scene ;  and  be  taken  by  the 
throat,  or  drawn  upon,  by  his  master  in  its  commencement. 
And  if  you  tell  Browning  that  I  have  seen  it,  tell  him 
that  I  believe  from  my  soul  there  is  no  living  man  (and  not 
many  dead)  who  could  produce  such  a  work." 

Miss  Helen  Faucit.  afterwards  Lady  Martin,  who  played 
the  part  of  Mildred  Tresham  on  this  occasion  gives  an  ac- 
count of  the  reading  of  the  play,  in  Blaofcwood's  Magazine 
for  March,  1881,  when  writing  of  Mr.  Elton.  "  It  seems 
but  yesterday,"  she  says,  "  that  I  sat  by  his  side  in  the 
green-room  at  the  reading  of  Robert  Browning's  beautiful 
drama  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon.  As  a  rule,  Mr.  Macready 
always  read  the  new  plays.  But  owing,  I  suppose,  to  some 
press  of  business,  the  task  was  intrusted  on  this  occasion  to 
the  head  prompter,  —  a  clever  man  in  his  way,  but  wholly 
unfitted  to  bring  out,  or  even  to  understand,  Mr.  Browning's 
meaning.  Consequently,  the  delicate,  subtle  lines  were 
twisted,  perverted,  and  sometimes  even  made  ridiculous  in 
his  hands.  My  '  cruel  father '  was  a  warm  admirer  of  the 
poet.  He  sat  writhing  and  indignant,  and  tried  by  gentle 
asides  to  make  me  see  the  real  meaning  of  the  verse.  But 
somehow  the  mischief  proved  irreparable,  for  a  few  of  the 
actors  during  the  rehearsals  chose  to  continue  to  misunder- 


66  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon. 

stand  the  text,  and  never  took  the  interest  in  the  play  which 
they  would  have  done  had  Mr.  Macready  read  it,  —  for  he 
had  great  power  as  a  reader.  I  always  thought  it  was 
chiefly  because  of  this  contretemps  that  a  play,  so  thor- 
oughly dramatic,  failed,  despite  its  painful  story,  to  make 
the  great  success  which  was  justly  its  due." 

A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  was  revived  by  the  Mr.  Phelps 
who  played  the  leading  part  at  its  first  presentation,  at  Sad- 
ler's Wells  Theatre,  Nov.  27,  1848.  It  was  played  in  Bos- 
ton, March  16,  1885,  under  the  management  of  Mr.  Law- 
rence Barrett.  The  London  Browning  Society  brought  it 
out  at  St.  George's  Hall,  May  2,  1885.  The  action  of  the 
play  occupies  two  days.  The  time  of  the  story  it  tells  is 
the  eighteenth  century,  according  to  Mr.  Browning  himself. 
The  code  of  honor  is  still  in  force,  and  a  morbid  spirit  of 
chivalry,  characteristic  of  that  code  at  that  period,  expresses 
itself  in  the  play. 

This  is  the  simplest,  most  direct  in  method,  and  the  most 
pathetic  of  Mr.  Browning's  plays.  In  itself  the  story  it 
tells  is  interesting,  and  calculated  to  appeal  to  our  deepest 
sympathies.  The  motive  is  family  honor,  which  was  strong 
among  the  aristocratic  families  of  England  in  the  eighteenth 
century ;  and  the  tragedy  arises  from  a  too  hasty  and  a  too 
chivalric  desire  to  avenge  any  blot  on  the  escutcheon  of  that 
honor.  Of  the  tragical  motive  and  the  ethical  intent  of  the 
play  Mr.  Arthur  Symons  says  this  right  word  in  his  In- 
troduction : 

"  The  whole  action  is  passionately  pathetic,  and  it  is  in- 
fused with  a  twofold  tragedy  —  the  tragedy  of  the  sin,  and 
that  of  the  misunderstanding  —  the  last  and  final  tragedy, 
which  hangs  on  a  word,  a  word  spoken  when  too  late  to 
save  three  lives.  This  irony  of  circumstance  is  at  once  the 
source  of  earth's  saddest  discords,  and  the  motive  of  art's 
truest  tragedies.  It  takes  the  place,  in  our  modern  world, 
of  the  irresistible  fate  of  the  Greeks  ;  and  is  not  less  im- 
pressive because  it  arises  from  the  impulse  and  unreasoning 
willfulness  of  man  rather  than  from  the  implacable  insist- 
ency of  God.  It  is  with  deep  justice,  both  moral  and  artis- 
tic, that  the  fatal  crisis,  though  mediately  the  result  of 
accident,  of  error,  is  shown  to  be  the  consequence  and  the 
punishment  of  wrong.  A  tragedy  resulting  from  the  mis- 


Bluphocks.  —  Boot  and  Saddle.  67 

takes  of  the  wholly  innocent  would  jar  on  our  sense  of  right 
and  could  never  produce  a  legitimate  work  of  art.  Even 
CEdipus  suffers,  not  merely  because  he  is  under  the  curse  of 
a  higher  power,  but  because  he  is  willful,  and  rushes  upon 
his  own  fate.  In  this  play  each  of  the  characters  calls 
down  upon  his  own  head  the  suffering  which  at  first  seems 
to  be  a  mere  caprice  and  confusion  of  chance.  Mildred 
Tresham  and  Henry  Mertoun,  both  very  young,  ignorant 
and  unguarded,  have  sinned.  They  attempt  a  late  repara- 
tion, apparently  with  success,  but  the  hasty  suspicion  of 
Lord  Tresham,  Mildred's  brother,  diverted  indeed  into  a 
wrong  channel,  brings  down  on  both  a  terrible  retribution. 
Tresham,  who  shares  the  ruin  he  causes,  feels,  too,  that  his 
punishment  is  due.  He  has  acted  without  pausing  to  con- 
sider, and  he  is  called  on  to  pay  the  penalty  of  evil  wrought 
by  want  of  thought." 

A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  is  put  into  a  narrative  form, 
and  therefore  more  or  less  fully  interpreted,  in  Mr.  F.  M. 
Holland's  Stories  from  Browning.  Mr.  Fotheringham,  in 
his  Studies,  criticises  somewhat  the  artistic  and  ethical  mo- 
tives of  the  play.  He  says  that  when  it  was  produced  on 
the  stage  in  London  the  play  was  not  quite  a  success,  and 
that  the  public  thought  the  subject  unpleasant.  Mrs.  Orr's 
brief  outline  of  the  plot  and  interpretation  of  its  motives 
will  be  found  helpful  in  following  the  course  of  the  play. 
Rolfe,  in  his  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  and  other  dramas  by 
Robert  Browning,  gives  Mr.  Lawrence  Barrett's  account  of 
his  own  presentation  of  the  play,  who  also  comments  on  the 
acting  qualities  of  the  drama.  Mr.  Rolfe  gives  full  an- 
notations, as  well  as  critical  comments  on  the  drama  from 
several  persons  who  have  written  about  it.  See  Browning 
Society's  Papers,  1 :  77*  ;  Lawrence  Barrett's  presentation, 
2  :  43*,  26*  ;  presentation  in  London,  1885,  2  :  59*  ;  pre- 
sentation in  London,  March  15,  1888,  2  :  250*. 

Bluphocks.     The  English  vagabond,  in  Pippa  Passes. 

Boot  and  Saddle.  First  published  in  the  third  num- 
ber of  Bells  and  Pomegranates  in  1842,  and  has  from  that 
time  appeared  in  Dramatic  Lyrics.  It  was  the  third  num- 
ber of  the  Cavalier  Tunes  with  which  that  work  opened. 
It  was  at  first  published  under  the  title  of  My  Wife  Ger- 
trude ;  but  the  present  title  was  given  it  in  the  Poems 


68  Bottinius.  —  By  the  Fireside. 

of  1849.  It  is  a  Cavalier  song  of  the  time  of  Charles  I., 
sung  by  a  party  of  gentlemen  as  they  saddle  preparatory  to 
the  rescuing  of  a  besieged  castle. 

Bottinius.  The  public  prosecutor,  who  in  The  Ring 
and  the  Book  presents  the  case  against  Count  Guido.  His 
speech  forms  the  ninth  book  of  the  poem. 

Boy  and  the  Angel,  The.  First  published  in  Hood's 
Magazine,  August,  1844.  It  was  rewritten,  with  five  new 
couplets,  and  was  published  in  1845,  in  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances and  Lyrics,  or  number  seven  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates. When  it  appeared  in  the  Poetical  Works  of 
1868  a  fresh  verse  was  added.  In  1844  the  poem  ended 
as  follows :  — 

"  Go  back  and  praise  again 
The  early  way,  while  I  remain. 

"  Be  again  the  boy  all  curl'd  ; 
I  will  finish  with  the  world." 

Theocrite  grew  old  at  home, 
Gabriel  dwelt  in  Peter's  dome. 

This  poem  has  no  historical  foundation,  although  it  fully 
represents  the  Middle-Age  spirit.  The  lesson  is  the  same  as 
that  contained  in  Pippa  Passes,  that  "  all  service  ranks  the 
same  with  God,"  therefore  we  are  not  to  seek  to  escape 
from  whatever  task  he  has  assigned  us.  See  Kingsland's 
Chief  Poet  of  the  Age. 

By  the  Fireside.  Men  and  Women,  1855 ;  Lyrics, 
1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

The  speaker  is  a  man  of  middle  age  addressing  his  wife. 
The  conception  of  love,  presented  in  this  poem,  where  it  is 
described  as  a  means  of  spiritual  awakening  and  growth,  is 
discussed  in  John  T.  Nettleship's  Robert  Browning :  Essays 
and  Thoughts,  where  this  poem  is  fully  analyzed.  Brown- 
ing's conception  of  love  as  a  means  of  conversion  is  dis- 
cussed on  page  58  of  Professor  Corson's  Introduction  to 
Browning.  The  picture  of  the  wife  with 

"  that  great  brow 
And  the  spirit-small  hand  propping  it " 

was  taken  from  Mrs.  Browning ;  and  much  of  the  poem  was 
probably  suggested  by  the  poet's  own  experiences  of  love  and 
wedded  life. 


Caliban  upon  Setebos.  69 

Caliban  upon  Setebos ;  or,  Natural  Theology  in 
the  Island.  Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

The  motto  from  the  fiftieth  Psalm  gives  the  point  of  view 
of  the  poem  ;  it  is  a  study  in  anthropomorphism.  The  god 
Setebos  is  described  in  Richard  Eden's  History  of  Travaile, 
published  in  London,  in  1577.  See  The  First  Three  Eng- 
lish Books  on  America,  edited  by  Edward  Arber.  Eden 
quotes  from  Antonio  Pigafetta's  account  of  the  circumnaviga- 
tion of  the  globe  by  Magellan.  Also  see  Purchas,  His  Pil- 
grimes,  1613,  where  the  same  account  is  given.  In  describ- 
ing the  capture  of  some  natives  of  Patagonia,  Eden  says  :  — 

"  After  other  fifteen  days  were  past,  there  came  four 
other  giants  without  any  weapons,  but  had  hid  their  bows 
and  arrows  in  certain  bushes.  The  captain  retained  two  of 
these  which  were  youngest  and  best  made.  He  took  them 
by  a  deceit  in  this  manner,  that  giving  them  knives,  shears, 
looking  glasses,  bells,  beads  of  crystal,  and  such  other  trifles, 
he  so  filled  their  hands  that  they  could  hold  no  more.  Then 
caused  two  pair  of  shackles  of  iron  to  be  put  on  their  legs, 
making  signs  that  he  would  also  give  them  those  chains ; 
which  they  liked  very  well  because  they  were  made  of 
bright  and  shining  metal.  And  whereas  they  could  not 
carry  them  because  their  hands  were  full,  the  other  giants 
would  have  carried  them  ;  but  the  captain  would  not  suffer 
them.  When  they  felt  the  shackles  fast  about  their  legs 
they  began  to  doubt ;  but  the  captain  did  put  them  in  com- 
fort and  bade  them  stand  still.  In  fine,  when  they  saw 
how  they  were  deceived  they  roared  like  bulls  and  cried 
upon  their  great  devil  Setebos  to  help  them.  Being  thus 
taken  they  were  immediately  separate  and  put  in  sundry 
ships.  They  could  never  bind  the  hands  of  the  other  two. 
Yet  was  one  of  them  with  much  difficulty  overthrown  by 
nine  of  our  men,  and  his  hands  bound ;  but  he  suddenly 
loosed  himself  and  fled,  as  did  also  the  other  that  came  with 
them.  In  their  flying  they  shot  off  their  arrows,  and  slew 
one  of  our  men.  They  say  that  when  one  of  them  die,  there 
appear  x.  or  xii.  devils  leaping  and  dancing  about  the  body 
of  the  dead,  and  seem  to  have  their  bodies  painted  with 
divers  colors.  And  that  among  others  there  is  one  seen 
bigger  than  the  residue,  who  maketh  great  mirth  and  re- 
joicing. This  great  devil  they  call  Setebos,  and  call  the 


70  Caliban  upon  Setebos. 

lesser  Cheleule.  One  of  these  giants  which  they  took,  de- 
clared by  signs  that  he  had  seen  devils  with  two  horns 
above  their  heads,  with  long  hair  down  to  their  feet ;  and 
that  they  cast  forth  fire  at  their  throats  both  before  and 
behind.  The  Captain  named  these  people  Patagoni.  The 
most  of  them  wear  the  skins  of  such  beasts  whereof  I  have 
spoken  before ;  and  have  no  house  of  continuance,  but 
maketh  certain  cottages  which  they  cover  with  the  said 
skins,  and  carry  them  from  place  to  place.  They  live  of 
raw  flesh  and  a  certain  sweet  root  which  they  call  Capar. 
One  of  these  which  they  had  in  their  ships  did  eat  at  one 
meal  a  basket  of  biscuits,  and  drank  a  bowl  of  water  at  a 
draught." 

What  Pigafetta  calls  a  devil  is  the  deity  of  the  Patago- 
nians.  The  conception  of  a  deity  higher  than  Setebos,  a 
deity  friendly  to  man,  whereas  Setebos  torments  him,  is 
certainly  not  borrowed  from  the  Patagonians  or  any  similar 
people.  The  benign  "Quiet"  is  much  more  in  harmony 
with  Greek  conceptions.  It  is  not  even  from  Shakespeare 
that  Browning  gets  this  idea,  although  the  general  concep- 
tion of  the  poem  is  taken  from  The  Tempest.  In  that 
romantic  drama  Caliban  is  one  of  the  characters,  while 
Prospero  and  Miranda  play  leading  parts.  Shakespeare 
took  Caliban  and  Setebos  from  some  report  of  Magellan's 
voyage  which  had  been  given  him ;  and  perhaps  the  general 
idea  of  the  play.  He  describes  Caliban,  as  Coleridge  puts 
it,  in  his  notes  on  the  Tempest,  as  "  all  earth,  all  condensed 
and  gross  in  feeling  and  images ;  he  has  the  dawnings  of 
understanding  without  reason  or  the  moral  sense,  and  in 
him,  as  in  some  brute  animals,  this  advance  to  the  intellec- 
tual faculties,  without  the  moral  sense,  is  marked  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  vice." 

Shakespeare  makes  Prospero  call  Caliban  "a  freckled 
whelp  hag-born."  His  mother  is  "  the  foul  witch  Sycorax," 
who  has  been  cast  upon  the  desert  island,  and  has  there 
given  birth  to  Caliban.  In  the  second  scene  of  the  second 
act,  Caliban,  upon  the  approach  of  Trinculo,  falls  flat  upon 
his  face;  and  when  the  thunder  comes  on  he  grovels  in 
the  manner  described  by  Browning  at  the  end  of  his  poem. 
Later  on  Caliban  takes  Stephano  for  his  god,  and  is  anxious 
to  get  rid  of  Prospero,  because  he  is  too  exacting  in  regard 


Caliban  upon  Setebos.  71 

to  the  labor  he  expects  him  to  perform.  Near  the  end  of 
the  drama  Alonso  says  of  him  :  "  This  is  a  strange  thing  as 
e'er  I  look'd  on."  Throughout  the  drama  he  is  a  wild, 
abject,  half-brutish,  degraded  creature,  without  moral  sense, 
groveling  in  superstitious  fear.  This  creature  of  Shake- 
speare's has  the  soliloquy  of  this  poem  put  into  his  mouth 
while  Prospero  and  Miranda  sleep  ;  but  in  a  manner  quite 
other  than  Shakespeare's,  less  romantic,  more  subtle,  much 
influenced  by  modern  philosophic  ideas,  and  with  a  power 
of  reasoning  which  Shakespeare's  Caliban  did  not  possess. 

The  best  study  of  the  poem  is  that  by  Mr.  J.  Cotter  Mori- 
son,  in  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  part  five  ;  though 
the  discussion  which  followed,  reported  in  the  same  number, 
is  even  better.  Mr.  Morison  says  the  poem  "  is  an  indirect 
yet  scathing  satire  of  a  rather  painful  class  of  reasoners 
who,  while  beginning  with  the  admission  that  the  nature  of 
the  Godhead  is  an  inscrutable  mystery,  proceed  to  write 
long  books  to  prove  their  special  and  minute  knowledge  of 
its  character;  which  knowledge  of  theirs,  you  may  by  no 
means  contradict  or  deny  under  penalties.  '  Very  well,' 
the  poet  seems  to  have  said,  '  you  complacently  draw  God 
after  your  own  image  —  a  flattering  likeness  no  doubt  —  and 
you  insist  upon  our  accepting  your  picture  as  a  facsimile 
of  the  original.  But  if  your  method  is  legitimate,  you  can- 
not pretend  to  a  monopoly  of  it ;  other  creatures,  whether 
above  or  beneath  you,  have  the  same  right  to  apply  it  with 
equal  warranty.  Here,  for  instance,  is  my  Caliban,  a  sturdy 
reasoner  after  his  own  fashion.  He  looks  within  his  bosom 
—  just  as  you  do  —  and  this  is  what  he  finds,  his  conception 
of  Setebos.  You  think  it  very  unlovely,  but  what  surety  can 
you  off er  that  your  conception  of  the  Eternal  is  not  as  repul- 
sive to  other  beings  who  may  be  as  much  superior  to  you  as 
you  are  to  Caliban  ?  Nay,  that  it  is  not  as  repulsive  to 
many  of  your  fellow-men,  who,  by  reason  of  a  different 
education  and  studies,  do  not  share  your  opinions  ? '  Some- 
thing like  this  may  be  supposed  to  have  passed  through  the 
poet's  mind."  Mr.  Edward  Dowden,  in  his  Studies  in 
Literature,  says  that  in  this  poem  "  the  poet  has,  with 
singular  and  most  terrible  force,  represented  what  must  be 
the  natural  theology  of  one  who  is  merely  an  intellectual 
animal,  devoid  of  spiritual  cravings,  sensibilities  and  checks." 


72  A  Camel-Driver.  —  The  Cardinal  and  the  Dog. 

Mr.  Morison's  Browning  Society  paper  is  in  part  five, 
1 :  489  ;  and  the  discussion  which  followed  its  reading  is  in 
1 : 115*. 

Camel  Driver,  A.     Ferishtah 's  Fancies,  1884. 

The  soldier-guide  of  the  first  line  is  a  creation  of  the 
poet's.  —  Rakhsh  or  Rakush  is  the  horse  of  Rustem,  the 
great  hero  of  the  Shah  Nameh.  He  was  the  offspring  of 
Abresh,  and  born  of  a  Diw  or  Demon.  Rustem  subdued 
Rakhsh  after  much  effort,  and  found  in  him  ever  after  a 
most  trusty  companion,  that  carried  him  through  all  his 
marvelous  adventures. 

Camp  and  Cloister.  See  Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish 
Cloister  and  Incident  of  the  French  Camp. 

Caponsacchi.  The  canon  of  Arezzo,  in  The  Ring  and 
the  Book,  who  assists  Pompilia  in  escaping  from  Count 
Guido.  His  narrative  forms  the  sixth  book  of  the  poem. 
A  study  of  this  character  is  given  in  Poet-Lore,  1 : 269. 

Cardinal  and  the  Dog,  The.     Asolando,  1889. 

"William  Macready,  the  eldest  son  of  the  actor  William 
Charles  Macready,  had  a  talent  for  drawing,  and  he  asked 
Browning  to  give  him  something  to  illustrate.  In  answer 
to  this  request  the  poet  made  a  poem  out  of  an  old  account 
of  the  death  of  the  Pope's  legate  at  the  Council  of  Trent. 
The  boy  made  such  clever  drawings  for  it,  that  the  poet  took 
up  a  more  picturesque  subject,  and  wrote  The  Pied  Piper. 
The  present  poem,  although  written  about  1840,  the  poet 
kept  by  him  until  the  publication  of  Asolando. 

Browning  puts  this  incident  in  the  year  1522,  and  he 
says  the  legate  was  Crescenzio.  A  similar  story  is  told  in 
Peter  Ribadeneira's  Flower  of  the  Lives  of  the  Saints. 
"  When  St.  Stanislaus  Kostka  was  preparing  himself  for 
admission  into  the  Society  of  Jesus,  he  was  visited  with  a 
dangerous  sickness ;  at  the  beginning  of  which  the  devil 
appeared  to  him  in  the  guise  of  a  great  black  dog,  horrible 
and  fearful  to  behold.  The  foul  fiend  took  the  sick  man 
thrice  by  the  throat,  trying  to  throttle  him  ;  but  Stanislaus, 
with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  not  only  resisted  him  manfully, 
but  even  drove  him  away,  and  he  never  again  disturbed 
this  faithful  soldier  of  Jesus  Christ." 

This  great  black  dog  is  none  other  than  the  wind-god  or 
the  messenger  of  death.  In  his  Myths  and  Myth-Makers, 


Cavalier  Tunes.  —  Cenciaja.  73 

Mr.  John  Fiske  says :  "  Countless  examples  go  to  show  that 
by  the  early  Aryan  mind  the  howling  wind  was  conceived 
as  a  great  dog  or  wolf.  As  the  fearful  beast  was  heard 
speeding  by  the  windows  or  over  the  house-top,  the  inmates 
trembled,  for  none  knew  but  his  own  soul  might  forthwith 
be  required  of  him.  Hence,  to  this  day,  among  ignorant 
people,  the  howling  of  a  dog  under  the  window  is  supposed 
to  portend  death  in  the  family.  It  is  the  fleet  greyhound 
of  Hermes,  come  to  escort  the  soul  to  the  river  Styx.  In 
Persia  a  dog  is  brought  to  the  bedside  of  the  person  who  is 
dying,  that  the  soul  may  be  sure  of  a  prompt  escort ;  the 
same  custom  exists  in  India.  .  .  .  Throughout  all  Aryan 
mythology  the  souls  of  the  dead  are  supposed  to  ride  on  the 
night-wind,  with  their  howling  dogs,  gathering  into  their 
throng  the  souls  of  those  just  dying  as  they  pass  by  their 
houses.  Hence,  in  many  parts  of  Europe,  it  is  still  custo- 
mary to  open  the  windows  when  a  person  dies,  in  order 
that  the  soul  may  not  be  hindered  in  joining  the  mystic 
cavalcade.  Sometimes  the  whole  complex  conception  is 
wrapped  up  in  the  notion  of  a  single  dog,  the  messenger  of 
the  god  of  shades,  who  comes  to  summon  the  departing  soul." 
In  the  Christian  mythology  of  the  Middle  Ages  the  dog  has 
simply  become  a  devil  or  an  evil  messenger  of  death. 

It  is  curious  that  while  Browning  wrote  this  poem  and 
The  Pied  Piper  in  one  connection,  Mr.  John  Fiske  inti- 
mately associates  them  in  their  mythological  meanings. 
They  are  both  myths  of  the  wind ;  and  of  the  same  nature 
is  the  associated  myth  of  Bishop  Hatto.  See  Myths  and 
Myth-Makers,  pp.  31-35.  See  Appendix. 

Cavalier  Tunes.  Dramatic  Lyrics,  published  in  1842, 
as  the  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  opened 
with  three  songs  under  this  general  title.  They  represent 
the  interests  of  Charles  I.,  and  strongly  oppose  the  Round- 
heads. Their  separate  titles  are  Marching  along,  Give  a 
Rouse,  and  Boot  and  Saddle ;  which  see.  These  songs 
have  been  set  to  music  by  Dr.  Villiers  Stanford.  Poems, 
1849  ;  Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Cenciaja.     Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems,  1876. 

The  motto  means  that  trifles  seek  for  attention  in  place  of 
more  weighty  mattei's.  The  word  "  Cenciaja,"  says  Mrs.  Orr, 
as  used  in  this  case,  is  perhaps  chiefly  a  pun  on  the  mean 


74  Cenciaja. 

ing  of  the  plural  noun  cenci,  "  old  rags."  The  crying  of 
this  word,  which  is  frequent  in  the  streets  of  Rome,  was 
mistaken  by  Shelley,  when  he  was  writing  his  play  of  The 
Cenci,  for  a  voice  urging  him  to  go  on  with  that  work. 
By  Browning  the  word  is  employed  as  the  title  of  his  poem, 
to  indicate  the  comparative  unimportance  of  his  addition  to 
the  story  of  the  Cenci. 

The  poem  opens  with  a  reference  to  Shelley's  tragedy 
called  The  Cenci,  in  the  preface  to  which  he  tells  the  story 
of  that  family.  "  A  manuscript,"  he  says,  "  was  communi- 
cated to  me  during  my  travels  in  Italy,  which  was  copied 
from  the  archives  of  the  Cenci  Palace  at  Rome,  and  con- 
tains a  detailed  account  of  the  horrors  which  ended  in  the 
extinction  of  one  of  the  noblest  and  richest  families  of  that 
city,  during  the  Pontificate  of  Clement  VIII.,  in  the  year 
1599.  The  story  is,  that  an  old  man  having  spent  his 
life  in  debauchery  and  wickedness,  conceived  at  length  an 
implacable  hatred  towards  his  children ;  which  showed  it- 
self towards  one  daughter  under  the  form  of  an  incestuous 
passion,  aggravated  by  every  circumstance  of  cruelty  and 
violence.  This  daughter,  after  long  and  vain  attempts  to 
escape  from  what  she  considered  a  perpetual  contamination 
both  of  body  and  mind,  at  length  plotted  with  her  mother- 
in-law  and  brother  to  murder  their  common  tyrant.  The 
young  maiden,  who  was  urged  to  this  tremendous  deed  by 
an  impulse  which  overpowered  its  horror,  was  evidently  a 
most  gentle  and  amiable  being,  a  creature  formed  to  adorn 
and  be  admired,  and  thus  violently  thwarted  from  her  na- 
ture by  the  necessity  of  circumstance  and  opinion.  The 
deed  was  quickly  discovered,  and,  in  spite  of  the  most  ear- 
nest prayers  made  to  the  Pope  by  the  highest  persons  in 
Rome,  the  criminals  were  put  to  death.  The  old  man  had, 
during  his  life,  repeatedly  bought  his  pardon  from  the  Pope 
for  capital  crimes  of  the  most  enormous  and  unspeakable 
kind,  at  the  price  of  a  hundred  thousand  crowns ;  the  death, 
therefore,  of  his  victims  can  scarcely  be  accounted  for  by 
the  love  of  justice.  The  Pope,  among  other  motives  for 
severity,  probably  felt  that  whoever  killed  the  Count  Cenci 
deprived  his  treasury  of  a  certain  and  copious  source  of 
revenue." 

In  the  present  poem  Browning  gives  another  reason  for 


Cenciaja.  75 

the  pope's  severity,  which  came  to  his  knowledge  from  the 
pages  of  a  contemporary  chronicle,  which  he  has  used  quite 
literally  in  some  parts  of  the  poem.  This  MS.  volume  was 
loaned  to  the  poet  by  Sir  John  Simeon,  and  it  has  since 
been  published  by  the  Philobiblion  Society.  The  pope,  ac- 
cording to  this  narrative,  was  likely  to  grant  a  pardon  to 
Beatrice  ;  but  just  then  the  Marchesa  dell'  Oriolo,  a  widow, 
was  murdered  by  her  younger  son,  Paolo  Santa  Croce.  The 
young  man  sought  to  secure  the  rights  of  his  older  brother, 
but  when  his  mother  refused  to  grant  him  these,  he  became 
a  matricide.  He  succeeded  in  making  good  his  escape ;  but 
a  letter  written  to  his  older  brother  seemed  to  implicate  him 
also,  and  he,  though  wholly  innocent,  was  charged  with  be- 
ing accessory  to  the  crime,  was  wrought  upon  until  he  was 
driven  into  insanity,  made  confession,  and  was  beheaded. 
The  prosecutor  of  the  case  against  Onofrio  Marchese  dell' 
Oriolo  was  his  rival  for  the  affections  of  a  lady ;  and  be- 
cause the  Marchese  had  flaunted  his  success  in  the  other's 
face,  hatred  worked  his  ruin.  This  murder  having  been 
committed  on  the  very  day  which  closed  the  trial  of  the 
Cenci,  sealed  the  doom  of  Beatrice.  The  portrait  of  Bea- 
trice Cenci,  painted  by  Guido  while  she  was  in  prison,  has 
made  her  face  known  to  every  one. 

In  Mr.  H.  B.  Forman's  edition  of  the  Works  of  Percy 
Bysshe  Shelley,  1880,  vol.  ii.  p.  418,  he  gives  an  account 
of  the  Cenci,  together  with  a  letter  from  Browning  concern- 
ing the  poem : 

"  Mr.  Browning's  Cenciaja  deals  with  the  episode  of  Paolo 
Santa  Croce,  the  matricide,  whose  crime  had  so  disastrous  a 
bearing  on  the  issue  of  the  Cenci  tragedy.  The  main  fact, 
on  which  Shelley  places  no  very  marked  stress,  though  he 
introduces  it,  is  that,  when  the  fate  of  Beatrice  and  her 
brother  and  stepmother  still  hung  in  the  balance,  Paolo 
Santa  Croce  killed  his  mother  and  made  good  his  escape, 
whereon  the  Pope  became  absolutely  inflexible  in  his  resolu- 
tion that  the  three  guilty  Cenci  should  die.  Mr.  Browning 
details  in  Cenciaja  the  motives,  not  only  of  Paolo  Santa 
Croce,  but  also  of  Cardinal  Aldobrandini,  the  Pope's  nephew, 
in  incriminating  Paolo's  brother,  Onofrio  Santa  Croce,  and 
hunting  him  down  to  execution  ;  and  it  is  a  noteworthy 
thing  that  this  same  cardinal,  whose  deadly  hatred  availed 


76  Cenciaja. 

to  bring  Onofrio  Santa  Croce  to  a  disgraceful  death,  had 
also  indirectly  ruined  the  Cenci  family.  It  was  he  who 
benefited  so  largely  by  the  continuance  of  Count  Francesco 
Cenci  in  his  high-priced  crimes;  and  but  for  him,  'the 
wickedest  man  on  record,'  as  Landor  calls  Cenci,  would  pro- 
bably have  perished  before  his  daughter  had  been  set  in  the 
dire  necessity  of  compassing  his  death.  How  far  Aldobran- 
clini  may  have  been  interested  in  extinguishing  the  family, 
of  whom  only  the  innocent  Bernardo  escaped  with  difficulty, 
it  were  hazardous  to  surmise ;  but  probably  his  enormous  in- 
fluence with  the  Pope  would  be  against  them.  The  story  of 
Onofrio  and  this  diabolical  dignitary  of  the  Church  is  within 
every  one's  reach,  and  should  be  read  by  all  who  are  inter- 
ested in  those  bypaths  of  history  which  have  fed  the  im- 
aginations of  our  greatest  poets  ;  but  a  further  comment  on 
the  Cenci  story,  which  has  not,  as  far  as  I  know,  had  any 
opportunity  of  finding  its  way  about  among  Shelley  students, 
must  be  here  recorded. 

"  Having  occasion  to  write  Mr.  Browning  on  another 
matter  connected  with  this  edition  of  Shelley's  works,  I 
asked  him  the  precise  value  we  were  to  attach  to  the  ter- 
minal aja  in  the  title  of  his  poem  —  a  title,  by  the  way, 
which  is  followed  by  the  Italian  proverb,  Ogni  cencio  vuol 
entrare  in  bucato,  and  I  received  the  following  answer :  — 
"  19  WAKWICK  CRESCENT,  W.,  July  27,  '76. 

"  DEAR  MR.  BUXTON  FORMAN  :  There  can  be  no  objection  to  such 
a  simple  statement  as  you  have  inserted,  if  it  seems  worth  inserting. 
'  Fact,'  it  is.  Next :  '  aia '  is  generally  an  accumulative  yet  depre- 
ciative  termination  :  '  Cenciaja  '  —  a  bundle  of  rags  —  a  trifle.  The 
proverb  means  '  every  poor  creature  will  be  pressing  into  the  company 
of  his  betters,'  and  I  used  it  to  deprecate  the  notion  that  I  intended 
anything  of  the  kind.  Is  it  any  contribution  to  '  all  connected  with 
Shelley,'  if  I  mention  that  my  '  Book '  ( The  Bing  and  the  Book) 
[rather  the  '  old  square  yellow  book '  from  which  the  details  were 
taken]  has  a  reference  to  the  reason  given  by  Farinacci,  the  advocate 
of  the  Cenci,  of  his  failure  in  the  defence  of  Beatrice  ?  '  Fuisse  pu- 
nitaiii  Beatricem  (he  declares)  poena  ultimi  supplicii,  non  quia  ex 
intervallo  occidi  maiidavit  iusidiantem  suo  honori,  sed  quia  ejus  ex- 
ceptionem  non  probavi  tibi  —  Prout,  et  idem  Jir  miter  sperabatur  de  sorore 
Beatrice  si propositam  excusationem  probasset,  prout  non  probavit.'1  That 
is.  she  expected  to  avow  the  main  outrage,  and  did  not :  in  conform- 
ity with  her  words,  '  That  which  I  ought  to  confess,  that  will  I  con- 
fess ;  that  to  which  I  ought  to  assent,  to  that  I  assent ;  and  that 
which  I  ought  to  deny,  that  will  I  deny.'  Here  is  another  Cenciaja  ! 
Yours  very  sincerely,  ROBERT  BROWNING." 


Charles  Avison.  77 

Charles  Avison,  Parleyings  with.  Parleyings  with 
Certain  People  of  Importance  in  their  Day,  1887. 

Charles  Avison  was  born  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  Eng- 
land, in  1710,  studied  music  in  Italy,  and  became  a  pupil  ot 
Geminiani  on  his  return.  In  1736  he  became  the  organist 
of  St.  Nicholas  Church  at  Newcastle ;  and  in  that  position 
the  remainder  of  his  life  was  spent.  In  1752  he  published 
an  Essay  on  Musical  Expression,  which  was  well  written, 
showing  much  acuteness  of  thought,  and  in  which  he  praised 
French  and  Italian  music,  preferring  it  to  the  German.  It 
created  quite  a  stir,  was  translated  into  German,  and  was 
replied  to  by  Dr.  Hayes,  a  musical  critic  of  the  day.  To 
Dr.  Hayes,  Avison  gave  answer,  but  not  with  entire  sue? 
cess.  He  gave  a  higher  position  to  Geminiani  than  to  Han~ 
del.  Avison  published  five  collections  of  Concertos  for  a, 
Full  Band,  forty-five  in  all ;  and  two  sets  of  sonatas  for  the 
harpsichord  and  two  violins.  He  had  a  considerable  repu- 
tation  both  as  a  critic  and  as  a  composer  of  music.  His 
music  is  light  and  elegant,  but  wanting  in  originality.  He 
also  published,  in  eight  volumes,  an  adaptation  of  Marcello's 
Psalms,  to  the  first  of  which  an  account  of  his  own  life  was 
prefixed.  Mr.  Barnett  Smith  says  that  "  very  little  is 
known  of  his  life,  but  he  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  man 
of  great  culture  and  polish,  and  for  many  years  was  the 
chief  of  a  small  circle  of  musical  amateurs  in  the  north  of 
England  who  were  devoted  to  his  views."  A  contempo- 
rary, in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  described  him  as  "  an 
ingenious,  polite  and  cultivated  man,"  who  "  from  being  an 
agreeable,  well  informed  and  gentlemanlike  man  of  the 
world,  directed  the  musical  opinions  of  his  circle  to  his  own 
taste,  and,  in  some  instances,  prejudices." 

The  subject  of  the  poem  is  the  Grand  March  written  by 
Avison,  a  copy  of  which  was  possessed  in  manuscript  by 
Browning's  father,  and  the  music  of  which  is  given  at  the 
end  of  tlie  poem.  The  Relfe  who  is  two  or  three  times 
mentioned  was  Browning's  teacher  of  music,  who  was  a 
learned  contrapuntist.  The  poem  maintains  that  music  in- 
terprets the  soul  as  nothing  else  does,  and  that  the  old  sim- 
ple music  is  best  adapted  to  this  end. 

For  information  about  Avison  see  Hawkins'  History  of 
Music  ;  Gentleman's  Magazine,  vol.  78,  1808  ;  and  Leslie 


78  Charles  L  —  Ckilde  Roland. 

Stephen's  Dictionary  of  National  Biography.  The  third 
volume  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers  gives  an  account 
of  the  monument  erected  to  his  memory  in  1890.  For  in- 
terpretations of  the  poem  see  Browning  Society's  Papers, 
part  nine,  and  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts. 

Charles  I.  In  Strafford,  he  permits  through  weakness 
the  death  of  his  truest  friend  ;  appears  in  second  and  fourth 
acts. 

Cherries.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

Mushtari  is  the  Persian  name  of  the  planet  Jupiter.  The 
ancient  planet  worship  is  implied  in  some  of  the  allusions  of 
this  poem. 

Chiappino.  The  ambitious  schemer  in  A  Soul's  Tra- 
gedy, who  seeks  to  overthrow  the  Provost  of  Faenza  and  to 
become  the  ruler  of  the  city  in  his  place.  He  betrays  his 
friend  Luitolfo,  shows  himself  a  treacherous  schemer,  and 
is  obliged  to  leave  the  city  in  the  end. 

Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came.  Men 
and  Women,  1855 ;  Romances,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances, 1868.  The  poem  was  written  at  Paris,  January  3, 
1852,  in  one  day. 

In  the  title  to  this  poem  the  author  refers  his  readers  to 
Edgar's  song  in  Lear.  In  this  great  drama  Edgar  pre- 
tends to  be  insane,  his  imagination  is  active  but  not  under 
control,  his  fancy  runs  riot  in  his  speech,  and  he  intro- 
duces wild  fantasies  and  grotesque  images  into  his  con- 
versation. The  unreal  world  of  the  insane  man's  fancy 
undoubtedly  was  the  starting  point  of  the  poem  ;  and  the 
student  who  wishes  to  read  it  with  true  appreciation  must 
study  the  character  of  Edgar  before  attempting  to  interpret 
Childe  Roland.  "  The  foul  fiend  who  leads  poor  Tom 
through  fire  and  through  flame,  and  through  ford  and 
whirlpool,  o'er  bog  and  quagmire ;  that  hath  laid  knives 
under  his  pillow,  and  halters  in  his  pew ;  set  ratsbane  by  his 
porridge ;  made  him  proud  of  heart  to  ride  on  a  bay  trot- 
ting horse  over  four-inched  bridges,  to  course  his  own  shadow 
for  a  traitor,"  is  the  prototype  of  that  strange  world  of 
shadows,  grim  shapes  and  things  of  darkness  in  Browning's 
poem.  At  the  end  of  his  strange  conversation  with  Lear 
and  the  Fool,  before  a  hovel  on  the  heath,  while  a  storm  is 
approaching,  Edgar  says : 


Childe  Roland.  79 

"  Child  Rowland  to  the  dark  tower  came, 
His  word  was  still,  —  Fie,  foh,  and  fum, 
I  smell  the  blood  of  a  British  man." 

The  intent  and  spirit  of  the  poem  are  well  indicated  in 
its  origin.  It  seems  to  have  been  written  largely  in  the 
spirit  of  Edgar's  conception  of  the  unreal  and  fantastic 
world  of  his  fancy  during  the  period  of  his  assumed  insan- 
ity. In  her  Handbook  Mrs.  Orr  says  the  poem  is  built  up 
of  picturesque  impressions,  which  have  separately  or  collec- 
tively produced  themselves  in  the  author's  mind.  She  says 
these  picturesque  materials  included  a  tower  which  Mr. 
Browning  once  saw  in  the  Carrara  Mountains,  a  painting 
which  caught  his  eye  years  later  in  Paris,  and  the  figure  of 
a  horse  in  the  tapestry  in  his  drawing-room  —  welded  to- 
gether in  the  remembrance  of  the  line  from  King  Lear 
which  forms  the  heading  of  the  poem.  Corfe  Castle  has 
also  been  mentioned  as  having  furnished  suggestions  for  the 
poem.  In  an  article  describing  a  visit  to  the  poet,  Rev. 
John  W.  Chadwick  speaks  of  this  tapestry  and  Mr.  Brown- 
ing's comments  on  the  poem  :  — 

"  Upon  the  lengthwise  wall  of  the  room,  above  the  Ital- 
ian furniture,  sombre  and  richly  carved,  was  a  long,  wide 
band  of  tapestry,  on  which  I  thought  I  recognized  the  mis- 
erable horse  of  Childe  Roland's  pilgrimage  :  — 

'  One  stiff  blind  horse,  his  every  bone  a-stare, 
Stood  stupefied,  however  he  came  there : 

Thrust  out  past  service  from  the  devil's  stud !  ' 

I  asked  Mr.  Browning  if  the  beast  of  the  tapestry  was 
the  beast  of  the  poem ;  and  he  said  yes,  and  descanted 
somewhat  on  his  lean  monstrosity.  But  only  a  Browning 
could  have  evolved  the  stanzas  of  the  poem  from  the  woven 
image.  I  further  asked  him  if  he  had  said  that  he  only 
wrote  Childe  Roland  for  its  realistic  imagery,  without  any 
moral  purpose,  —  a  notion  to  which  Mrs.  Sutherland  Orr 
has  given  currency ;  and  he  protested  that  he  never  had. 
When  I  asked  him  if  constancy  to  an  ideal  —  '  He  that 
endureth  to  the  end  shall  be  saved  '  —  was  not  a  sufficient 
understanding  of  the  central  purpose  of  the  poem,  he  said, 
'  Yes,  just  about  that.'  " 

"  Childe  "  is  a  title  of  honor,  about  tantamount  to  "  lord," 
says  Brewer. 


80  Childe  Roland. 

In  Lippincott's  Magazine,  vol.  45,  1890,  Mrs.  Bloom- 
field-Moore  gives  an  account  of  a  conversation  with  Brown- 
ing as  to  the  meaning  of  the  poem.  He  said  to  her  that 
it  was  "  only  a  fantasy,"  that  he  had  written  it  because  it 
pleased  his  fancy. 

No  poem  of  Browning's  has  given  origin  to  more  of  dis- 
cussion, and  a  greater  variety  of  opinions,  than  this  one. 
It  is  evidently  one  of  the  most  obscure  of  his  poems  as  to 
any  meaning  it  may  have,  and  this  has  led  to  the  most  di- 
vergent conceptions  pf  its  purpose.  One  class  of  inter- 
preters have  seen  in  it  simply  a  realistic  effort  of  the 
fancy,  without  ethical  intent  of  any  kind.  Another  class 
find  it  an  allegory  of  life,  and  full  of  the  subtlest  spirit  of 
ideal  interpretation.  The  latter  tendency  has  perhaps  been 
carried  to  its  extreme  in  Mr.  Nettleship's  Essays  and 
Thoughts. 

John  Esten  Cooke  understood  the  Dark  Tower  to  be  that 
of  Unfaith,  and  the  obscure  land  that  of  Doubt.  Others 
have  defined  the  Dark  Tower,  as  Truth,  Love,  Life,  Death  ; 
and  they  have  elaborated  the  whole  poem  from  this  point  of 
view,  and  made  it  as  artificial  an  allegory  as  that  of  Bun- 
yan's  Pilgrim's  Progress.  One  of  the  most  suggestive  of 
these  interpretations  was  contributed  by  an  anonymous 
writer  to  The  Critic,  in  1886.  "The  Dark  Tower  is 
Death,"  says  this  writer,  "  and  atheism  is  the  unnatural 
crime  by  which  the  soul  denies  its  Maker.  Let  us  read  the 
poem  by  this  light.  The  knight,  who  is  inspired  by  the 
highest  ideal  of  fealty,  is  met  upon  the  threshold  of  life  by 
the  doubts  and  skepticism  of  the  age,  and  finds  relief  when 
his  doubts  are  settled  and  he  finally  accepts  atheism ;  but, 
even  at  the  outset,  he  sees  that  such  a  creed  is  a  kind  of 
life  in  death,  ,and  that  it  does  not  offer  any  true  solution. 
The  personification  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  —  a  bowed 
old  man,  time-worn,  cynical  —  taunts  while  it  invites  him, 
and  the  skull  grins  already  in  mockery.  So  long  as  he  was 
in  doubt  the  ground  was  still  fertile,  his  feet  were  set  in  a 
path,  the  heights  were  still  above  him ;  but  from  the  mo- 
ment he  enters  upon  the  trackless  plain  all  nature  becomes 
arid ;  there  are  no  longer  any  heights  to  scale.  Pure  in- 
stinct could  never  have  brought  him  here.  When  he  meets 
the  horse  he  feels  it  to  be  a  monstrosity,  for  all  living  crea- 


CMlde  Roland.  81 

lures  must  by  their  instincts  shun  negation.  Fain  would  he 
return  to  the  influences  of  the  past,  but  the  moral  failures 
of  those  whom  he  has  known  deter  him.  The  fallacy  of  this 
reasoning  is  shown  at  once.  He  crosses  a  stream  of  water 
—  water  the  emblem  of  life  —  but  it  is  poisoned,  and  has 
no  life-giving  properties.  It  makes  no  choice  between  good 
and  evil ;  the  graybeard  and  the  newborn  babe  are  alike 
drowned  in  the  poisonous  flood.  The  waters  of  the  river 
of  faith  have  life-giving  properties ;  the  waters  of  this 
stream  kill  all  life.  Even  invention  and  the  instrument  of 
torture  stand  idle.  There  is  no  function  for  a  reward  and 
punishment  if  there  is  no  God  and  no  future  life.  On  this 
trackless  plain  there  are  no  footsteps  even,  only  the  impress 
upon  the  earth  of  the  struggles  of  lost  souls.  As  he  ap- 
proaches the  Dark  Tower  he  expects  to  encounter  birds  of 
night,  '  a  howlet  or  a  bat.'  Not  so ;  the  emblem  of  dark- 
ness which  comes  to  meet  him,  with  broad,  outstretched 
wings,  dragon-penned,  is  no  living  bird,  but  a  mythical 
creature,  an  emblem  of  the  darkness  of  unfaith,  not  of  the 
peace  of  night.  Over  the  path  which  he  has  abandoned 
there  may  be  a  white  dove  flying,  with  the  light  of  dawn  on 
its  wings.  He  begins  to  see  it  now.  Three  times  he  uses 
the  word  '  fool.'  The  Dark  Tower  is  blind  as  the  fool's 
heart.  That  is,  the  grave  is  to  the  atheist  like  the  fool's 
heart  blind  and  dark,  because  it  denies  God.  He  thinks 
that  he  is  facing  death,  or  the  Dark  'Tower,  in  the  most 
candid  manner,  without  blind  superstition ;  but  although 
there  are  heights  and  sounds  and  light  about  him,  at  this 
supreme  moment,  he  has  blinded  himself  to  them  all. 
Browning's  marvelous  characterization  is  now  revealed. 
As  in  the  Return  of  the  Druses,  Djabal  fails,  through  in- 
heritance and  subtle,  complex  influences,  to  attain  to  his 
ideal,  so  Childe  Roland  embodies  those  peculiar,  distinctive 
qualities  of  the  Nineteenth  Century  —  high  moral  courage, 
unswerving  fealty  to  conviction  ;  and  knowing  there  is  to  be 
no  more  of  him,  believing  that  life  is  a  vanity  of  vanities, 
and  he  only  the  framework  of  a  picture,  to  pass  away  for- 
ever in  a  moment,  he  blew  on  the  slug-horn;  and  so  — 
Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came." 

Mr.  Arlo  Bates  thinks  the  poem  is  not  allegorical,  but 
that  it  is  an  imaginative  creation  without  special  meaning, 


82  Childe  Roland. 

except  that  it  sets  forth  the  value  of  an  ideal.  He  says  that 
imaginative  poetry,  or  poetry  of  the  highest  order,  does 
something  more  than  to  say  prettily  and  gracefully  and 
agreeably  what  might  just  as  well  have  been  said  in  prose. 
"  Its  raison  d'etre  is  that  it  has  a  message  of  which  it  is  at 
once  the  substance  and  the  vehicle ;  it  is  the  only  form  pos- 
sible for  the  poetical  thought,  for  it  is  the  form  which  that 
thought  has  spontaneously  produced ;  and  labor  is  lost  in 
trying  by  paraphrase  and  elaboration  to  elucidate,  express 
or  explain  what  the  poet  has  said,  not  alone  in  the  best,  but 
in  the  only  possible  form.  It  would  be  idle,  therefore,  for 
any  one,  no  matter  how  gifted,  to  attempt  to  set  down  in 
any  words  but  those  of  the  poem  itself  what  is  the  intent  of 
Childe  Roland  ;  and  however  interesting  an  allegorical  in- 
terpretation may  be,  it  must  from  the  nature  of  the  case  be 
unsatisfactory. 

"  Yet  it  is  sometimes  possible  to  give  a  clew  that  helps 
another  into  the  poet's  mood ;  so,  without  meaning  to  an- 
alyze, to  expound,  and  least  of  all  to  explain  a  poem  from 
which  I  would  fain  keep  my  hands  as  reverently  as  from 
the  Ark,  I  ask  the  poet's  pardon  for  saying  that  to  me 
Childe  Roland  is  the  most  supreme  expression  of  noble 
allegiance  to  an  ideal  —  the  most  absolute  faithfulness  to  a 
principle  regardless  of  all  else  ;  perhaps  I  cannot  better  ex- 
press what  I  mean  than  by  saying  the  most  thrilling  crystal- 
lization of  that  most  noble  of  human  sentiments,  of  which  a 
brilliant  flower  is  the  motto  Noblesse  oblige. 

"  Ineffable  weariness  —  that  state  when  the  cripple's  skull- 
like  laugh  ceased  to  irritate,  that  most  profound  condition  of 
lassitude,  when  even  trifles  cannot  vex  —  begins  the  poem  ; 
with  glimpses  behind  of  the  long  experience  of  one  who  has 
seen  hope  die,  effort  fade  and  — worst  of  all  —  enthusiasm 
waste,  until  even  success  seemed  valueless.  A  state  of  ex- 
haustion so  utter  that  nothing  but  an  end,  even  though  it  be 
a  failure,  could  arouse  even  the  phantom  of  a  desire.  Then 
negative  objective  desolation,  so  to  say ;  dreariness  around 
in  landscape,  starved  foliage,  and  on  up  to  the  loathsome 
horse.  Then  subjective  misery ;  a  failure  of  the  very 
memories  which  in  sheer  desperation  the  hero  calls  up  to 
strengthen  him  in  an  hour  whose  awful  numbness  stupefies 
him.  Then,  when  once  more  relief  is  sought  outside,  im- 


Childe  Roland.  83 

pressions  that  are  positively  disheartening;  a  suggestion  of 
conflicts  that  brings  an  overwhelming  impression  that  all 
the  powers  of  evil  actively  pervade  this  place ;  then  —  the 
Round  Tower ! 

"  What  does  it  matter  what  the  tower  signifies  —  whether 
it  be  this,  that  or  the  other  ?  If  the  poem  means  anything, 
it  means,  I  am  sure,  everything  in  this  line.  The  essential 
thing  is  that  after  a  lifetime  pledged  to  this  —  whatever  the 
ideal  may  be  —  the  opportunity  has  come  after  a  cumulative 
series  of  disheartenments,  and  more  than  all  amid  an  over- 
whelming sense  that  failure  must  be  certain  where  so  many 
have  failed ;  where  nature  and  unseen  foes  and  the  ghosts 
of  all  his  baffled  comrades  stand  watching  for  his  destruc- 
tion, where  defeat  is  certain  and  its  ignominy  already  cried 
aloud  by  the  winds  of  heaven.  And  the  sublime  climax 
comes  in  the  constancy  of  the  hero :  — 

'  In  a  sheet  of  flame 

I  saw  them  and  I  knew  them  all.     And  yet 
Dauntless  the  slug-horn  to  my  lips  I  set 
And  blew.' 

The  nominal  issue  of  the  conflict  is  no  matter,  because  the 
real  issue  is  here ;  with  the  universe  against  him,  with  the 
realization  of  all  this,  dauntless  he  gives  his  challenge. 

"  The  whole  poem  is  a  series  of  cumulative  effects,  of 
which  the  end  is  a  fitting  climax.  One  cannot  read  it  with- 
out a  tingling  in  every  fibre  of  his  being,  and  a  stinging 
doubt  whether  in  such  a  case  he  might  not  have  been  found 
wanting.  I  cannot  conceive  of  anything  more  complete, 
more  noble,  more  inspiring.  Heaven  forbid  that  any  one 
should  so  mistake  what  I  have  written  as  to  suppose  I  think 
I  have  explained  Childe  Roland.  I  have  already  said  that 
I  believe  the  meaning  of  the  poem  could  be  put  in  no  other 
words  than  those  of  Mr.  Browning ;  and  what  I  have  said 
does  not  even  attempt  to  convey  a  hundredth  part  of  what 
that  glorious  poem  means  to  me." 

For  allegorical  interpretations  of  the  poem  see  The  Critic, 
5  :  201,  April  24,  1886,  Mr.  Browning's  Great  Puzzle, 
by  John  Esten  Cooke ;  also  The  Critic,  5 :  246,  May  15, 
1886.  The  Rev.  J.  Kirkman's  paper  before  the  Browning 
Society  is  of  the  same  kind.  He  also  attempts  to  show  that 


84  Christmas-Eve  and  Easter-Day. 

the  poem  grew  out  of  the  old  Ballad  Romance  of  Childe 
Roland  as  contained  in  R.  Jamieson's  Illustrations  of 
Northern  Antiquities.  This  paper  and  the  discussion 
which  followed  are  interesting  for  their  presentation  of 
widely  divergent  interpretations.  Mr.  Bates'  paper  was 
published  in  The  Critic,  5  :  231,  May  8,  1886.  Mr. 
Fotheringham  regards  the  poem  as  "  a  romance  of  the 
soul."  In  Richard  Grant  White's  Selections  the  poem  is 
discussed  briefly,  in  the  introduction.  The  Browning  So- 
ciety's Papers,  1 :  21*,  gives  an  abstract  of  a  paper  by  J. 
Kirkman,  and  a  report  of  the  discussion  which  followed. 

Christmas  -  Eve  and  Easter -Day.  A  Poem.  By 
Robert  Browning.  London :  Chapman  and  Hall,  186, 
Strand,  1850.  These  words  formed  the  title-page  of  the 
poem  when  it  first  appeared.  In  1863  these  other  words 
were  added  to  the  title  :  "  Florence,  1850."  They  give  the 
year  when  the  poem  was  written,  as  well  as  that  of  its  pub- 
lication. Pages,  i.-iv.,  1-142.  Reprinted  in  Works,  1863, 
vol.  iii. 

What  appear  to  be  two  poems  the  author  evidently  in- 
tended to  have  regarded  as  one,  by  the  form  of  the  title, 
and  by  the  manner  of  their  publication.  They  consider 
different  phases  of  the  same  general  subject.  They  also 
agree  in  being,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  the  only  poems 
in  which  Browning  has  spoken  in  his  own  personality ;  this 
gives  them  a  special  emphasis  and  interest. 

Christmas-Eve  may  be  thus  briefly  outlined : 

1.  Conventional  religion  in  the  little  chapel ;  sections  i. 
to  iii. 

2.  The  religion  of  nature  ;  sections  iv.  to  vii. 

3.  Christ  revealed  to  the  soul  through  the  supernatural ; 
sections  viii.  and  ix. 

4.  Christ  as  manifested  at  Rome,  in  a  great  ecclesiastical 
system  ;  sections  x.  to  xii. 

5.  Christ  as  interpreted  by  a  rationalistic  German  pro- 
fessor ;  sections  xiv.  and  xv. 

6.  The  Poet's  communion  with  his  own  mind  on  the  na- 
ture of  the  Christ ;  sections  xvi.  to  xix. 

7.  The  Poet's  own  conception  of  the  Christ ;  section  xx. 

8.  Conclusion :  Christ  as  the  God  of  salvation ;  sections 
xxi.  and  xxii. 


Christopher  Smart.  85 

See  Miss  H.  E.  He*sey,  who,  in  her  edition  of  the  poem, 
gives  a  brief  introduction  and  notes.  J.  T.  Nettleship,  in 
his  Robert  Browning :  Essays  and  Thoughts,  gives  a  good 
interpretation  of  the  poem.  Also  see  Prospective  Review, 
6 :  267  ;  Living  Age,  25  :  403  ;  The  Germ,  W.  M.  Rossetti, 
No.  4 : 187  ;  Day  of  Rest,  George  MacDonald,  1 :  34. 

A  few  slight  changes  were  made  in  the  edition  of  1868, 
which  are  given  by  Miss  Hersey  in  her  notes. 

Christopher  Smart.  Parleyings  with  Certain  People 
of  Importance  in  their  Day,  1887. 

Christopher  Smart  was  born  in  Shipbourne,  Kent,  April 
11, 1722.  Through  powerful  friends  he  entered  Pembroke 
Hall,  Cambridge,  in  1739,  and  took  his  degree  from  Pem- 
broke College  in  1747.  While  in  the  university  his  habits 
were  bad,  and  his  career  was  marked  by  folly  and  extrava- 
gance. The  letters  of  Gray  mention  him  at  this  tune.  He 
wrote  a  drama,  which  was  acted  in  the  college  hall ;  and 
he  became  proficient  in  English  and  Latin  verse.  He 
married  a  bookseller's  daughter  in  1753,  and  moved  to 
London  to  live  by  his  pen.  He  produced  a  satire  called 
The  Hilliad,  versified  the  Fables  of  Phcedrus,  and  became 
the  editor  of  a  monthly  called  The  Universal  Visitor.  In 
this  periodical  Johnson  wrote  a  few  essays  to  help  his 
friend.  In  1763  Smart  was  in  a  mad-house,  but  as  he  was 
not  violent  he  was  soon  released.  He  became  very  intem- 
perate, misfortune  followed  him,,  he  was  shut  up  in  the 
King's  Bench  prison  for  debt,  and  died  there  in  1770,  after 
a  short  illness.  Johnson  said  of  his  insanity :  "  I  do  not 
think  he  ought  to  be  shut  up.  His  infirmities  are  not 
noxious  to  society.  He  insists  on  people  praying  with  him 
(also  falling  upon  his  knees  and  saying  his  prayers  in  the 
street,  or  in  any  other  unusual  place)  ;  and  I  'd  as  lief  pray 
with  Kit  Smart  as  any  one  else."  Smart's  poems  were 
collected  in  1753  ;  and  a  more  extended  edition  was  pub- 
lished in  two  volumes  in  1791. 

His  one  true  poem,  the  Song  to  David,  written  during 
the  sane  intervals  of  an  attack  of  insanity  brought  on  by 
his  drunkenness  and  poverty,  is  the  real  subject  of  Brown- 
ing's poem.  It  may  be  found  in  full  in  the  earlier  editions 
of  Chambers'  Cyclopaedia  of  English  Literature  and  in 
part  in  Ward's  English  Poets.  The  editor  of  the  latter 


86  Christopher  Smart. 

work,  Mr.  T.  H.  Ward,  says :  "  There  is  nothing  like  the 
Song  to  David  in  the  eighteenth  century ;  there  is  nothing 
out  of  which  it  might  seem  to  have  heen  developed.  .  .  . 
There  are  few  episodes  in  our  literary  history  more  interest- 
ing than  this  of  the  wretched  bookseller's  hack,  with  his 
mind  thrown  off  its  balance  by  drink  and  poverty,  rising  at 
the  instant  of  his-  deepest  distress  to  a  pitch  of  poetic  per- 
formance unimagined  by  himself  at  all  other  times,  un- 
imagined  by  all  but  one  or  two  of  his  contemporaries,  and 
so  little  appreciated  by  the  public,  that  when  an  edition  of 
his  writings  was  called  for  it  was  sent  into  the  world  with 
this  masterpiece  omitted."  Of  this  poem  Mr.  William 
Rossetti  has  said  :  "  This  wonderful  poem  of  Smart's  is  the 
only  great  accomplished  poem  of  the  last  century.  The 
unaccomplished  ones  are  Chattel-ton's  —  of  course  I  mean 
earlier  than  Blake  or  Coleridge,  and  without  reckoning 
so  exceptional  a  genius  as  Burns.  A  masterpiece  of  rich 
imagery,  exhaustive  resources,  and  reverberant  sound." 
The  Song  to  David  was  first  published  in  1763  in  sepa- 
rate form,  and  the  Rev.  R.  Harvey  republished  it  in  1819. 
Smart  also  made  a  literal  prose  translation  of  the  poems  of 
Horace,  which  is  now  published  in  Harper's  Classical  Li- 
brary. 

It  is  said  that  during  Smart's  confinement  in  the  mad- 
house he  was  denied  the  use  of  writing  materials,  and  that 
he  was  in  the  habit  of  writing  his  poetic  thoughts  with  a 
nail  or  a  key  on  the  walls  of  his  cell.  In  this  way  his  Song 
to  David  was  composed,  according  to  this  tradition.  It  is 
not  very  probable,  however,  that  he  could  have  written  so 
long  a  poem  in  this  manner,  though  a  part  of  it  may  have 
been  thus  recorded.  Written  under  these  circumstances,  it 
is  remarkable  that  the  poem  is  not  morbid  or  in  any  way 
distempered. 

Browning  makes  Smart  give  two  quotations  from  his  own 
poems.  These  seem  to  be  from  his  five  Seaton  prize  poems 
on  Various  Attributes  of  the  Supreme  Being.  In  one  of 
these  are  the  following  lines  :  — 

"  While  here  above  their  heads  Leviathan, 
The  terror  and  the  glory  of  the  main, 
His  pastime  takes  with  transport,  proud  to  see 
The  ocean's  vast  dominion  all  his  own." 


Christopher  Smart.  87 

In  another  of  these  poems  he  speaks  thus  of  the  power  of 
the  Supreme  Being :  — 

"  'T  were  but  the  echo  of  the  parting  breeze 
When  Zephyr  faints  upon  the  lily's  breast." 

Here  follows  in  full  Smart's 

SONG  TO  DAVID, 

O  thou,  that  sit'st  upon  a  throne, 
With  harp  of  high,  majestic  tone, 

To  praise  the  King  of  kings : 
And  voice  of  heaven,  ascending  swell, 
Which,  while  its  deeper  notes  excel, 

Clear  as  a  clarion  rings : 

To  bless  each  valley,  grove,  and  coast, 
And  charm  the  cherubs  to  the  post 

Of  gratitude  in  throngs ; 
To  keep  the  days  on  Zion's  Mount, 
And  send  the  year  to  his  account, 

With  dances  and  with  songs : 

O  servant  of  God's  holiest  charge, 
The  minister  of  praise  at  large, 

Which  thou  mayst  now  receive  ; 
From  thy  blest  mansion  hail  and  hear, 
From  topmost  eminence  appear 

To  this  the  wreath  I  weave. 

Great,  valiant,  pious,  good  and  clean, 
Sublime,  contemplative,  serene, 

Strong,  constant,  pleasant,  wise! 
Bright  effluence  of  exceeding  grace  ; 
Best  man  !  the  swiftness  and  the  race, 

The  peril  and  the  prize  ! 

Great  —  from  the  lustre  of  his  crown, 
From  Samuel's  horn,  and  God's  renown, 

Which  is  the  people's  voice  ; 
For  all  the  host,  from  rear  to  van, 
Applauded  and  embraced  the  man  — 

The  man  of  God's  own  choice. 

Valiant  —  the  word,  and  up  he  rose  ; 
The  fight  —  he  triumphed  o'er  the  foes 

Whom  God's  just  laws  abhor ; 
And,  armed  in  gallant  faith,  he  took 
Against  the  boaster,  from  the  brook, 

The  weapons  of  the  war. 


88  Christopher  Smart. 

Pious  —  magnificent  and  grand, 

'T  was  he  the  famous  temple  planned, 

(The  seraph  in  his  soul :) 
Foremost  to  give  the  Lord  his  dues, 
Foremost  to  bless  the  welcome  news, 

And  foremost  to  condole. 

Good  —  from  Jehudah's  genuine  vein, 
From  God's  best  nature,  good  in  grain, 

His  aspect  and  his  heart : 
To  pity,  to  forgive,  to  save, 
Witness  En-gedi's  conscious  cave, 

And  Shimei's  blunted  dart. 

Clean  —  if  perpetual  prayer  be  pure, 
And  love,  which  could  itself  inure 

To  fasting  and  to  fear  — 
Clean  in  his  gestures,  hands,  and  feet, 
To  smite  the  lyre,  the  dance  complete, 

To  play  the  sword  and  spear. 

Sublime  —  invention  ever  young, 
Of  vast  conception,  towering  tongue, 

To  God  the  eternal  theme  ; 
Notes  from  yon  exaltations  caught, 
Unrivaled  royalty  of  thought, 

O'er  meaner  strains  supreme. 

Contemplative  —  on  God  to  fix 
His  musings,  and  above  the  six 

The  Sabbath  day  he  blest ; 
'T  was  then  his  thoughts  self-conquest  pruned, 
And  heavenly  melancholy  tuned, 

To  bless  and  bear  the  rest. 

Serene  —  to  sow  the  seeds  of  peace, 
Remembering  when  he  watched  the  fleece, 

How  sweetly  Kidron  purled  — 
To  further  knowledge,  silence  vice, 
And  plant  perpetual  paradise, 

When  God  had  calmed  the  world. 

Strong  —  in  the  Lord,  who  could  defy 
Satan,  and  all  his  powers  that  lie 

In  sempiternal  night ; 
And  hell,  and  horror,  and  despair 
Were  as  the  lion  and  the  bear 

To  his  undaunted  might. 

Constant  —  in  love  to  God,  and  Truth, 
Age,  manhood,  infancy,  and  youth  — 
To  Jonathan  his  friend 


Christopher  Smart.  89 

Constant,  beyond  the  verge  of  death ; 
And  Ziba,  and  Mephibosheth, 
His  endless  fame  attend. 

Pleasant  —  and  various  as  the  year ; 
Man,  soul,  and  angel  without  peer, 

Priest,  champion,  sage,  and  boy ; 
In  armor,  or  in  ephod  clad, 
His  pomp,  his  piety  was  glad ; 

Majestic  was  his  joy. 

Wise  —  in  recovery  from  his  fall, 
Whence  rose  his  eminence  o'er  all 

Of  all  the  most  reviled ; 
The  light  of  Israel  in  his  ways, 
Wise  are  his  precepts,  prayer  and  praise, 

And  counsel  to  his  child. 

His  muse,  bright  angel  of  his  verse, 
Gives  balm  for  all  the  thorns  that  pierce, 

For  all  the  pangs  that  rage  ; 
Blest  light,  still  gaining  on  the  gloom, 
The  more  than  Michal  of  his  bloom, 

The  Abishag  of  his  age. 

He  sang  of  God  —  the  mighty  source 
Of  all  things  —  the  stupendous  force 

On  which  all  strength  depends ; 
From  whose  right  arm,  beneath  whose  eyes, 
All  period,  power,  and  enterprise 

Commences,  reigns,  and  ends. 

Angels  —  their  ministry  and  need, 
Which  to  and  fro  with  blessings  speed, 

Or  with  their  citterns  wait ; 
Where  Michael,  with  his  millions,  bows, 
Where  dwells  the  seraph  and  his  spouse, 

The  cherub  and  her  mate. 

Of  man  —  the  semblance  and  effect 
Of  God  and  love  —  the  saint  elect 

For  infinite  applause  — 
To  rule  the  land,  and  briny  broad, 
To  be  laborious  in  his  laud, 

And  heroes  in  his  cause. 

The  world  —  the  clustering  spheres,  he  made, 
The  glorious  light,  the  soothing  shade, 

Dale,  champaign,  grove,  and  hill ; 
The  multitudinous  abyss, 
Where  secrecy  remains  in  bliss, 

And  wisdom  hides  her  skill. 


Christopher  Smart. 

Trees,  plants,  and  flowers  —  of  virtuous  root ; 
Gem  yielding  blossom,  yielding  fruit, 

Choice  gums  and  precious  balm  ; 
Bless  ye  the  nosegay  in  the  vale, 
And  with  the  sweetness  of  the  gale 

Enrich  the  thankful  psalm. 

Of  fowl  —  e'en  every  beak  and  wing 
Which  cheer  the  winter,  hail  the  spring, 

That  live  in  peace,  or  prey  ; 
They  that  make  music,  or  that  mock, 
The  quail,  the  brave  domestic  cock, 

The  raven,  swan,  and  jay. 

Of  fishes  —  every  size  and  shape, 
Which  nature  frames  of  light  escape, 

Devouring  man  to  shun  : 
The  shells  are  in  the  wealthy  deep, 
The  shoals  upon  the  surface  leap, 

And  love  the  glancing  sun. 

Of  beasts  —  the  beaver  plods  his  task ; 
While  the  sleek  tigers  roll  and  bask, 

Nor  yet  the  shades  arouse  ; 
Her  cave  the  mining  coney  scoops ; 
Where  o'er  the  mead  the  mountain  stoops, 

The  kids  exult  and  browse. 

Of  gems  —  their  virtue  and  their  price, 
Which,  hid  in  earth  from  man's  device, 

Their  darts  of  lustre  sheath ; 
The  jasper  of  the  master's  stamp, 
The  topaz  blazing  like  a  lamp, 

Among  the  mines  beneath. 

Blest  was  the  tenderness  he  felt, 
When  to  his  graceful  harp  he  knelt, 

And  did  for  audience  call ; 
When  Satan  with  his  hand  he  quelled, 
And  in  serene  suspense  he  held 

The  frantic  throes  of  Saul. 

His  furious  foes  no  more  maligned 
As  he  such  melody  divined, 

And  sense  and  soul  detained ; 
Now  striking  strong,  now  soothing  soft, 
He  sent  the  godly  sounds  aloft, 

Or  in  delight  refrained. 

When  up  to  heaven  his  thoughts  he  piled, 
From  fervent  lips  fair  Michal  smiled, 
As  blush  to  blush  she  stood ; 


Christopher  Smart.  91 

And  chose  herself  the  queen,  and  gave 
Her  utmost  from  her  heart  —  "so  brave, 
And  plays  his  hymns  so  good." 

The  pillars  of  the  Lord  are  seven, 

Which  stand  from  earth  to  topmost  heaven; 

His  wisdom  drew  the  plan  ; 
His  Word  accomplished  the  design, 
From  brightest  gem  to  deepest  mine, 

From  Christ  enthroned  to  man. 

Alpha,  the  cause  of  causes,  first, 

In  station,  fountain,  whence  the  burst 

Of  light  and  blaze  of  day ; 
Whence  bold  attempt,  and  brave  advance, 
Have  motion,  life,  and  ordinance, 

And  heaven  itself  its  stay. 

Gamma  supports  the  glorious  arch 
On  which  angelic  legions  march, 

And  is  with  sapphires  paved ; 
Thence  the  fleet  clouds  are  sent  adrift, 
And  thence  the  painted  folds  that  lift 

The  crimson  veil  are  waved. 

Eta  with  living  sculpture  breathes, 
With  verdant  carvings,  flowery  wreaths 

Of  never- wasting  bloom ; 
In  strong  relief  his  goodly  base 
All  instruments  of  labor  grace, 

The  trowel,  spade,  and  loom. 

Next  Theta  stands  to  the  supreme  — 
Who  formed  in  number,  sign,  and  scheme, 

The  illustrious  lights  that  are  ; 
The  one  addressed  his  saffron  robe, 
And  one,  clad  in  a  silver  globe, 

Held  rule  with  every  star. 

lota's  tuned  to  choral  hymns 

Of  those  that  fly,  while  he  that  swims 

In  thankful  safety  lurks ; 
And  foot,  and  chapitre,  and  niche, 
The  various  histories  enrich 

Of  God's  recorded  works. 

Sigma  presents  the  social  droves 
With  him  that  solitary  roves, 

And  man  of  all  the  chief  ; 
Fair  on  whose  face,  and  stately  frame, 
Did  God  impress  his  hallowed  name, 

For  ocular  belief. 


92  Christopher  Smart. 

Omega !  greatest  and  the  best, 
Stands  sacred  to  the  day  of  rest, 

For  gratitude  and  thought ; 
Which  blessed  the  world  upon  his  pole, 
And  gave  the  universe  his  goal, 

And  closed  the  infernal  draught. 

O  David,  scholar  of  the  Lord ! 
Such  is  thy  science,  whence  reward, 

And  infinite  degree ; 
O  strength,  O  sweetness,  lasting  ripe  I 
God's  harp  thy  symbol,  and  thy  type 

The  lion  and  the  bee ! 

There  is  but  One  who  ne'er  rebelled, 
But  One  by  passion  unimpelled, 

By  pleasures  unentieed ; 
He  from  himself  his  semblance  sent, 
Grand  object  of  his  own  content, 

And  saw  the  God  in  Christ. 

Tell  them,  I  Am,  Jehovah  said 

To  Moses ;  while  earth  heard  in  dread, 

And,  smitten  to  the  heart, 
At  once  above,  beneath,  around, 
All  nature,  without  voice  or  sound, 

Replied,  0  Lord,  Thou  Art. 

Thou  art  —  to  give  and  to  confirm, 
For  each  his  talent  and  his  term  ; 

All  flesh  thy  bounties  share  : 
Thou  shalt  not  call  thy  brother  fool ; 
The  porches  of  the  Christian  school 

Are  meekness,  peace,  and  prayer. 

Open  and  naked  of  offense, 

Man  's  made  of  mercy,  soul,  and  sense : 

God  armed  the  snail  and  wilk  ; 
Be  good  to  him  that  pulls  thy  plough  ; 
Due  food  and  care,  due  rest  allow 

For  her  that  yields  thee  milk. 

Rise  up  before  the  hoary  head, 

And  God's  benign  commandment  dread, 

Which  says  thou  shalt  not  die, 
"Not  as  I  will,  but  as  thovi  wilt," 

Prayed  He,  whose  conscience  knew  no  guilt ; 

With  whose  blessed  pattern  vie. 

Use  all  thy  passions  !  —  love  is  thine, 
And  joy  and  jealousy  divine ; 
Thine  hope's  eternal  fort, 


Christopher  Smart,  93 

And  care  thy  leisure  to  disturb, 
With  fear  concupiscence  to  curb, 
And  rapture  to  transport. 

Act  simply,  as  occasion  asks ; 

Put  mellow  wine  in  seasoned  casks ; 

Till  not  with  ass  and  bull ; 
Remember  thy  baptismal,  bond  ; 
Keep  from  commixtures  foul  and  fond, 

Nor  work  thy  flax  with  wool. 

Distribute  ;  pay  the  Lord  his  tithe, 

And  make  the  widow's  heart-strings  blithe; 

Resort  with  those  that  weep  ; 
As  you  from  all  and  each  expect, 
For  all  and  each  thy  love  direct, 

And  render  as  you  reap. 

The  slander  and  its  bearer  spurn, 
And  propagating1  praise  sojourn 

To  make  thy  welcome  last ; 
Turn  from  old  Adam  to  the  New : 
By  hope  futurity  pursue  : 

Look  upwards  to  the  past. 

Control  thine  eye,  salute  success, 
Honor  the  wiser,  happier  bless, 

And  for  thy  neighbor  feel ; 
Grutch  not  of  mammon  and  his  leaven, 
Work  emulation  up  to  heaven 

By  knowledge  and  by  zeal. 

O  David,  highest  in  the  list 

Of  worthies,  on  God's  ways  insist) 

The  genuine  word  repeat ! 
Vain  are  the  documents  of  men, 
And  vain  the  flourish  of  the  pen 

That  keeps  the  fool's  conceit. 

Praise  above  all  —  for  praise  prevails ; 
Heap  up  the  measure,  load  the  scales, 

And  good  to  goodness  add : 
The  generous  soul  her  Saviour  aids. 
But  peevish  obloquy  degrades ; 

The  Lord  is  great  and  glad. 

For  Adoration  all  the  ranks 
Of  angels  yield  eternal  thanks, 

And  David  in  the  midst  ; 
With  God's  good  poor,  which,  last  and  least 
In  man's  esteem,  thou  to  thy  feast, 

O  blessed  bridegroom,  bidst. 


94  Christopher  Smart. 

For  Adoration  seasons  change 

And  order,  truth,  and  beauty  range, 

Adjust,  attract,  and  fill : 
The  grass  the  polyanthus  checks ; 
And  polished  porphyry  reflects, 

By  the  descending  rill. 

Rich  almonds  color  to  the  prime 
For  Adoration ;  tendrils  climb, 

And  fruit-trees  pledge  their  gems ; 
And  Ivis,  with  her  gorgeous  vest, 
Builds  for  her  eggs  her  cunning  nest, 

And  bell-flowers  bow  their  stems. 

With  vinous  syrup  cedars  spout ; 
From  rocks  pure  honey  gushing  out, 

For  Adoration  springs : 
All  scenes  of  painting  crowd  the  map 
Of  nature  ;  to  the  mermaid's  pap 

The  scaled  infant  clings. 

The  spotted  ounce  and  playsome  cubs 
Run  rustling  'mongst  the  flowering  shrubs, 

And  lizards  feed  the  moss  ; 
For  Adoration  beasts  embark, 
While  waves  upholding  halcyon's  ark 

No  longer  roar  and  toss. 

While  Israel  sits  beneath  his  fig, 
With  coral  root  and  amber  sprig 

The  weaned  adventurer  sports ; 
Where  to  the  palm  the  jasmine  cleaves, 
For  Adoration  'mong  the  leaves 

The  gale  his  peace  reports. 

Increasing  days  their  reign  exalt, 
Nor  in  the  pink  and  mottled  vault 

The  opposing  spirits  tilt ; 
And  by  the  coasting  reader  spied, 
The  silverlings  and  erosions  glide, 

For  Adoration  gilt. 

For  Adoration,  ripening  canes 
And  cocoa's  purest  milk  detains 

The  western  pilgrim's  staff ; 
Where  rain  in  clasping  boughs,  enclosed, 
And  vines  with  oranges  disposed, 

Embower  the  social  laugh. 

Now  labor  his  reward  receives, 
For  Adoration  counts  his  sheaves 
To  peace,  her  bounteous  prince  ; 


Christopher  Smart.  95 


The  nect'rine  his  strong1  tint  imbibes, 
And  apples  of  ten  thousand  tribes, 
And  quick  peculiar,  quince. 

The  wealthy  crops  of  whitening  rice 
'  Mongst  thyne  woods  and  groves  of  spice, 

For  Adoration  grow  ; 
And,  marshaled  in  the  fenced  land, 
The  peaches  and  pomegranates  stand, 

Where  wild  carnations  blow. 

The  laurels  with  the  winter  strive ; 
The  crocus  burnishes  alive 

Upon  the  snow-clad  earth : 
For  Adoration  myrtles  stay 
To  keep  the  garden  from  dismay 

And  bless  the  sight  from  dearth. 

The  pheasant  shows  his  pompous  neck ; 
And  ermine,  jealous  of  a  speck, 

With  fear  eludes  offense  ; 
The  sable,  with  his  glossy  pride, 
For  Adoration  is  descried, 

Where  frosts  the  wave  condense. 

The  cheerful  holly,  pensive  yew, 
And  holly  thorn,  their  trim  renew ; 

The  squirrel  hoards  his  nuts  : 
All  creatures  batten  o'er  their  stores. 
And  careful  nature  all  her  doors 

For  Adoration  shuts. 

For  Adoration,  David's  Psalms 
Lift  up  the  heart  to  deeds  of  alms ; 

And  he,  who  kneels  and  chants, 
Prevails  his  passions  to  control, 
Finds  meat  and  medicine  to  the  soul, 

Which  for  translation  pants. 

For  Adoration,  beyond  match, 
The  scholar  bullfinch  aims  to  catch 

The  soft  flute's  ivory  touch  : 
And,  careless,  on  the  hazel  spray 
The  daring  redbreast  keeps  at  bay 

The  damsel's  greedy  clutch. 

For  Adoration,  in  the  skies, 
The  Lord's  philosopher  espies 

The  dog,  the  ram,  the  rose ; 
The  planets  ring,  Orion's  sword ; 
Nor  is  his  greatness  less  adored 

In  the  vile  worm  that  glows. 


96  Christopher  Smart. 

For  Adoration,  on  the  strings 

The  western  breezes  work  their  wings, 

The  captive  ear  to  soothe  — 
Hark  !   't  is  a  voice  —  how  still,  and  small  - 
That  makes  the  cataracts  to  fall, 

Or  hids  the  sea  be  smooth  ! 

For  Adoration,  incense  comes 
From  bezoar,  and  Arabian  gums, 

And  from  the  civet's  fur  : 
But  as  for  prayer,  or  e'er  it  faints, 
Far  better  is  the  breath  of  saints 

Than  galbanum  or  myrrh. 

For  Adoration,  from  the  down 
From  damsons  to  the  anana's  crown, 

God  sends  to  tempt  the  taste ; 
And  while  the  luscious  zest  invites 
'The  sense,  that  in  the  scene  delights, 

Commands  desire  be  chaste. 

For  Adoration,  all  the  paths 
Of  grace  are  open,  all  the  baths 

Of  purity  refresh ; 
And  all  the  rays  of  glory  beam 
To  deck  the  man  of  God's  esteem, 

Who  triumphs  o'er  the  flesh. 

For  Adoration,  in  the  dome 

Of  Christ,  the  sparrows  find  a  home, 

And  on  bis  olives  perch : 
The  swallow  also  dwells  with  thee, 
O  man  of  God's  humility, 

Within  his  Saviour's  Church. 

Sweet  is  the  dew  that  falls  betimes, 
And  drops  upon  the  leafy  limes ; 

Sweet  Hermon's  fragrant  air: 
Sweet  is  the  lily's  silver  bell, 
And  sweet  the  wakeful  tapers  smell 

That  watch  for  early  prayer. 

Sweet  the  young  nurse,  with  love  intense, 
Which  smiles  o'er  sleeping  innocence ; 

Sweet  when  the  lost  arrive  : 
Sweet  the  musician's  ardor  beats, 
While  his  vague  mind  's  in  quest  of  sweets, 

The  choicest  flowers  to  hive. 

Sweeter,  in  all  the  strains  of  love, 

The  language  of  thy  turtle-dove, 

Paired  to  thy  swelling  chord ; 


Christopher  Smart.  97 

Sweeter,  with  every  grace  endued, 
The  glory  of  thy  gratitude, 
Respired  unto  the  Lord. 

Strong  is  the  horse  upon  his  speed ; 
Strong  in  pursuit  the  rapid  glede, 

Which'  makes  at  once  his  game  : 
Strong  the  tall  ostrich  on  the  ground  ; 
Strong  through  the  turbulent  profound 

Shoots  xiphias  to  his  aim. 

Strong  is  the  lion  —  like  the  coal 
His  eyeball  —  like  a  bastion's  mole 

His  chest  against  the  foes : 
Strong  the  gier-eagle  on  his  sail, 
Strong  against  tide  the  enormous  whale 

Emerges  as  he  goes. 

But  stronger  still  in  earth  and  air, 
And  in  the  sea  the  man  of  prayer, 

And  far  beneath  the  tide  : 
And  in  the  seat  to  faith  assigned, 
Where  ask  is  have,  where  seek  is  find, 

Where  knock  is  open  wide. 

Beauteous  the  fleet  before  the  gale ; 
Beauteous  the  multitudes  in  mail, 

Ranked  arms,  and  crested  heads  ; 
Beauteous  the  garden's  umbrage  mild, 
Walk,  water,  meditated  wild, 

And  all  the  bloomy  beds. 

Beauteous  the  moon  full  on  the  lawn ; 
And  beauteous  where  the  veil 's  withdrawn, 

The  virgin  to  her  spouse  ; 
Beauteous  the  temple  decked  and  filled, 
When  to  the  heaven  of  heavens  they  build 

Their  heart-directed  vows. 

Beauteous,  yea  beauteous  more  than  these, 
The  Shepherd  King  upon  his  knees, 

For  his  momentous  trust ; 
With  wish  of  infinite  conceit, 
For^nan,  beast,  mute,  the  small  and  great, 

And  prostrate  dust  to  dust. 

Precious  the  bounteous  widow's  mite  ; 
And  precious  for  extreme  delight, 

The  largess  from  the  churl : 
Precious  the  ruby's  blushing  blaze, 
And  alba's  blest  imperial  raya, 

And  pure  cerulean  pearl. 


98  Clara  de  Millefleurs.  —  Cleon. 

Precious  the  penitential  tear ; 
And  precious  is  the  sigh  sincere  ; 

Acceptable  to  God : 
And  precious  are  the  winning  flowers, 
In  gladsome  Israel's  feast  of  bowers, 

Bound  on  the  hallowed  sod. 

More  precious  that  diviner  part 

Of  David,  e'en  the  Lord's  own  heart, 

Great,  beautiful,  and  new  : 
In  all  things  where  it  was  intent, 
In  all  extremes,  in  each  event, 

Proof  —  answering  true  to  true. 

Glorious  the  sun  in  mid  career ; 
Glorious  the  assembled  tires  appear; 

Glorious  the  comet's  train : 
Glorious  the  trumpet  and  alarm  ; 
Glorious  the  Almighty's  stretched-out  arm  ; 

Glorious  the  enraptured  main : 

Glorious  the  northern  lights  astream  ; 
Glorious  the  song  when  God  's  the  theme ; 

Glorious  the  thunder's  roar  ; 
Glorious  hosannah  from  the  den ; 
Glorious  the  catholic  amen ; 

Glorious  the  martyr's  gore  : 

Glorious  —  more  glorious  is  the  crown 
Of  Him  that  brought  salvation  down, 

By  meekness  called  thy  Son  ; 
Thou  that  stupendous  truth  believed, 
And  now  the  matchless  deed  's  achieved, 

Determined,  Dared,  and  Done. 

See  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  and  a  paper  by 
Arthur  Symons  in  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number 
nine.  A  letter  from  William  Rossetti  will  be  found  in  The 
Athenaeum,  for  February  19,  1887. 

Clara  de  Millefleurs.  The  woman  in  Red  Cotton 
Night-Cap  Country,  who  forms  an  illicit  connection  with 
Ldonce  Miranda,  the  Parisian  jeweler.  * 

Claret.     See  Nationality  in  Drinks. 

Cleon.     Men  and  Women,  1855. 

The  motto  of  the  poem  is  taken  from  Acts  xvii.  28.  The 
characters  are  imaginary,  but  the  poem  is  historical  in  its 
spirit.  Cleon,  the  poet  and  artist,  as  well  as  Protus,  the 
Tyrant,  are  drawn  with  historical  fidelity ;  they  are  typical 
of  the  period  they  represent. 

See  Mrs.  Orr,  Fotheringham,  and  Symons. 


dive.  99 

Olive.     Dramatic  Idyls,  Second  Series,  1880. 

Robert  Clive  was  born  in  Shropshire,  England,  in  1725. 
His  youth  was  devoted  to  mischief.  He  went  to  India  as  a 
clerk  in  1744,  became  a  soldier,  showed  great  courage  and 
consummate  skill  as  a  military  leader,  and  built  up  the 
English  empire  in  India.  He  won  the  battle  of  Plassey  in 
1757  ;  and  he  secured  great  wealth  by  means  not  strictly 
honest.  In  England  he  entered  Parliament.  His  conduct  in 
India  was  investigated  in  1773,  and  he  was  acquitted.  The 
opposition  he  met  with,  and  his  excessive  use  of  opium,  led 
to  suicide  in  1774.  England  owes  to  him  her  vast  empire 
in  India. 

The  story  told  by  Browning  is  of  a -well  authenticated 
character.  It  was  first  published  in  the  second  edition  of 
the  Biographia  Britannica  in  a  biography  of  Clive,  written 
by  Henry  Beaufoy,  from  family  papers  and  other  similar 
sources  of  information.  This  was  reproduced  substantially 
in  Chalmers'  Biographical  Dictionary.  In  Malcolm's  Life 
of  Lord  Clive,  vol.  i.  p.  46,  it  is  repeated  and  the  above 
authorities  referred  to,  the  account  being  in  these  words  :  — 

"  Soon  after  his  arrival  at  Fort  St.  David  he  was  engaged 
in  a  duel  with  an  officer,  to  whom  he  had  lost  some  money 
at  cards,  but  who,  with  his  companion,  was  clearly  proved  to 
have  played  unfairly.  Clive  was  not  the  only  loser ;  but 
the  others  were  terrified  into  payment  by  the  threats  of 
those  who  had  won  their  money.  This  example  had  no  ef- 
fect on  him ;  he  persisted  in  refusing  to  pay,  and  was  called 
out  by  one  of  them  who  deemed  himself  insulted  by  his 
conduct.  They  met  without  seconds ;  Clive  fired,  and 
missed  his  antagonist,  who  immediately  came  close  up  to 
him,  and  held  the  pistol  to  his  head,  desiring  him  to  ask  his 
life,  with  which  he  complied.  The  next  demand  was.  to  re- 
cant his  assertions  respecting  unfair  play.  On  compliance 
with  this  being  refused,  his  opponent  threatened  to  shoot 
him.  '  Fire  and  be  damned,'  said  the  dauntless  young 
man ;  '  I  said  you  cheated  ;  I  say  so  still,  and  will  never 
pay  you.'  The  astonished  officer  threw  away  his  pistol; 
saying  Clive  was  mad.  The  latter  received  from  his  young 
companions  many  compliments  for  the  spirit  he  had  shown ; 
but  he  not  only  declined  coming  forward  against  the  officer 
with  whom  he  had  fought,  but  never  afterwards  spoke  of 


100  Colombe.  —  Colombes  Birthday. 

his  behavior  at  the  card-table.  '  He  has  given  me  my  life,' 
he  said,  '  and  though  I  am  resolved  on  never  paying  money 
which  was  unfairly  won,  or  again  associating  with  him,  I 
shall  never  do  him  an  injury.'  " 

Macaulay,  in  his  essay  on  Lord  Clive,  which  is  based  on 
Malcolm's  work,  mentions  this  incident  as  follows :  "  His 
personal  courage,  of  which  he  had,  while  still  a  writer, 
given  signal  proof  by  a  desperate  duel  with  a  military  bully 
who  was  the  terror  of  Fort  St.  David,  speedily  made  him 
conspicuous  even  among  hundreds  of  brave  men."  Colonel 
Molleson,  the  latest  biographer  of  Clive,  passes  this  inci- 
dent by  hastily  in  these  words :  "  Stories  have  been  handed 
down  of  the  coolness  and  resolution  he  displayed  at  the 
pastime  of  card-playing ;  alike  in  unmasking  a  cheat,  in 
putting  down  a  bully,  and  in  meeting  good  and  bad  for- 
tune." 

Mrs.  Orr  says  the  story,  as  told  by  Browning,  was  related 
to  him,  in  1846,  by  Mrs.  Jameson,  who  had  shortly  before 
heard  it  at  Lansdowne  House,  from  Macaulay.  Brown- 
ing invented  the  "friend,"  and  the  repetition  of  the  story,  a 
week  before  the  death  of  Clive. 

Green's  History  of  the  English  People  gives  a  good  view 
of  the  work  of  Clive  in  India.  Beside  Macaulay's,  Mal- 
colm's, and  Molleson's,  there  are  biographies  by  Caraccioli 
and  Gleig.  See  Rolfe,  in  his  Select  Poems,  where  he  gives 
a  sketch  of  Clive's  life,  and  notes  on  the  poem. 

Colombe  of  Ravestein.  The  duchess  of  Juliers  and 
Cleves,  in  Colombe's  Birthday,  who  holds  her  duchy  under 
the  Salic  law.  Her  cousin,  Prince  Berthold,  is  the  lawful 
duke.  She  is  beloved  by  Valence,  an  advocate,  whom  she 
finally  prefers  to  the  prince,  and  the  probable  position  of 
empress  which  would  come  with  marrying  the  prince,  who 
offers  her  his  hand,  but  who  does  not  love  her.  See  Miss 
Burt's  Brownings  Women  for  a  study  of  this  character. 

Colombe's  Birthday.  After  giving  an  account  of  the 
stage  production  of  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  Mr.  Ed- 
mund Gosse,  in  his  paper  on  the  early  writings  of  Brown- 
ing, now  published  in  his  Personalia,  proceeds  to  say  of 
the  present  drama :  "  Fired  with  the  memory  of  so  many 
plaudits,  Mr.  Browning  set  himself  to  the  composition 
of  another  actable  play,  and  this  also  had  its  little  hour  of 


Colombe's  Birthday.  101 

success,  though  not  until  many  years  afterward.  Colombe's 
Birthday,  which  formed  number  six  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates, appeared  in  1843.  I  have  before  me  at  the 
present  moment  a  copy  of  the  first  edition,  marked  for  act- 
ing by  the  author,  who  has  written  :  '  I  made  the  alterations 
in  this  copy  to  suit  some  —  I  forget  what  —  projected  stage 
representation  ;  not  that  of  Miss  Faucit,  which  was  carried 
into  effect  long  afterward.'  The  stage  directions  are 
numerous  and  minute,  showing  the  science  which  the  dra- 
matist had  gained  since  he  first  essayed  to  put  his  creations 
on  the  boards.  Some  of  the  suggestions  are  characteristic 
enough.  For  instance,  '  unless  a  very  good  Valence  is 
found, '  this  extremely  fine  speech,  perhaps  the  jewel  of  the 
play,  is  to  be  left  out.  In  the  present  editions  the  verses 
run  otherwise."  Mr.  Gosse  refers  to  the  speech  of  Valence 
in  the  fourth  act,  in  which  he  describes  Berthold  to  the 
Duchess. 

Colombe's  Birthday,  when  published  in  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates, was  called :  "A  play,  in  five  Acts.  By  Robert 
Browning,  author  of  Paracelsus."  It  contained  twenty- 
four  pages,  and  was  sold  for  one  shilling.  The  dedication 
was  dated  March,  1844,  and  was  to  Barry  Cornwall  in 
the  words  retained  in  all  editions.  Reprinted  in  Poetical 
Works  of  1863,  second  volume,  among  "  Tragedies  and 
Other  Plays." 

This  drama  was  put  upon  the  stage  at  the  Haymarket  The- 
atre, London,  Monday  evening,  April  25, 1853.  Miss  Helen 
Faucit  took  the  part  of  Colombe,  and  Barry  Sullivan  that 
of  Valence.  It  was  played  for  two  weeks  with  success, 
Miss  Faucit  having  chosen  the  play  from  a  personal  interest 
in  it,  and  because  of  her  appreciation  of  the  character  of 
Colombe.  After  outlining  the  action  of  the  play  The  Athe- 
no3um  said  of  it,  and  of  its  first  performance :  "  Such  is 
the  refined  action  of  this  charming  poem,  rather  than  drama. 
Its  movements,  for  the  most  part,  occur  in  the  chambers 
of  the  mind.  Such  themes  are  evidently  not  of  the  usual 
stage-sort,  and  will  fail  of  attraction  to  all  who  insist  on  the 
ordinary  dramatic  motion  and  action.  To  the  worn-out  and 
wearied  playgoer,  who  can  turn  for  a  moment  out  of  the 
beaten  path,  nothing  could  well  be  more  delicious.  The  in- 
voluntary tear  was  often  felt  upon  the  cheek.  We  feared 


102  Colombe 's  Birthday. 

that  on  performance,  this  fine  poem  would  scarcely  be  in- 
telligible to  a  mixed  audience.  Miss  Faucit,  however,  by 
her  skill,  made  them  perfectly  understand  it ;  and  the 
applause  came  in  the  proper  places.  That  the  performance 
will  become  popular,  it  is  not  for  the  critic  to  determine,  — 
but  we  can  record  its  apparent  perfect  success  on  the  first 
night."  The  Examiner  said :  "  The  applause  was  unmixed 
at  the  close  of  the  play,  and  many  passages  as  it  proceeded 
had  excited  evident  admiration  and  sympathy.  If  it  re- 
mains on  the  stage  longer  than  we  have  ventured  to  antici- 
pate, we  shall  think  all  the  better  of  the  audiences  of  the 
Haymarket.  Nor,  if  the  great  beauty  of  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  characters  of  Berthold  and  Valence  could  only 
have  been  better  exhibited  by  the  actors,  should  we  have 
entertained  so  much  doubt  as  we  do  of  the  probability  of 
such  a  result."  Another  critic  complained  of  the  male 
actors,  but  praised  the  acting  of  Miss  Faucit.  "  Through 
the  finished  delicacy  of  the  details,  the  traces  of  great  latent 
power  are  evident,  which,  while  they  help  to  elevate  our 
impression  of  the  character  of  Colombe,  increase  our  admi- 
ration of  the  powers  of  the  actress  who  so  skillfully  subordi- 
nates her  genius  to  perfect  harmony  with  the  poet's  idea. 
Her  clear  and  melodious  enunciation  of  the  dialogue  and 
delicate  phases  of  emotion  seem  to  discover  a  force  and 
beauty  in  the  poem  which  is  not  elsewhere  apparent.  The 
mise  en  scene  is  admirable.  The  scenery  and  adjuncts  have 
been  skillfully  selected,  and  are  executed  in  the  best  style." 
This  play  was  given  at  the  Howard  Athena3um,  Boston, 
February  16,  1854. 

The  Browning  Society  secured  the  performance  of  (70- 
lombe's  Birthday  in  St.  George's  Hall,  London,  on  Thurs- 
day evening,  November  19,  1885,  with  Miss  Alma  Murray 
as  Colombe.  The  accounts  of  the  performance  contained  in 
The  Academy,  The  Athenaeum,  and  other  journals,  were 
reprinted  in  number  seven  of  The  Browning  Society's 
Papers ;  2 : 93*.  In  the  Boston  Literary  World,  for 
December  12,  1885,  Miss  A.  M.  F.  Robinson  (now  Mrs. 
Darmesteter)  said  of  the  play :  "  Colombe's  Birthday  is 
charming  on  the  boards,  clearer,  more  direct  in  action, 
more  picturesque,  more  full  of  delicate  surprises  than  one 
imagines  it  in  print.  With  a  very  little  cutting  it  could  be 


The  Confessional.  —  Constance.  103 

made  an  excellent  acting  play,  and  the  story  is  so  simple 
and  so  touching,  that  even  the  playgoer  might  forgive  it  for 
being  told  in  modern  poetry." 

Rolfe  includes  Colombe's  Birthday  in  his  annotated 
dramas  of  Browning,  and  he  gives  several  pages  of  selected 
critical  comments,  as  well  as  extended  notes.  Miss  Burt's 
Browning's  Women  discusses  Colombe  in  the  chapter  on 
"  magnanimous  women."  Mr.  F.  M.  Holland  puts  the  play 
into  a  prose  story  in  his  Stories  from  Robert  Browning. 
The  sixth  number  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers  con- 
tains a  study  of  the  avowal  of  Valence,  by  Mr.  Leonard  S. 
Outram  ;  2  :  87. 

Confessional,  The.  Published  in  Dramatic  Romances 
and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates, 
1845.  It  was  there  printed  as  II.  under  the  general  title 
of  France  and  Spain.  Poems,  1849,  under  its  own  title  ; 
Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

This  poem  is  historical  only  in  the  sense  that  it  correctly 
interprets  the  period  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain.  A  young 
girl  wrings  from  her  lover  his  secret  knowledge,  that  is  in- 
jurious to  the  Church ;  and  she  does  this  at  the  instigation 
of  her  confessor,  who  has  assured  her  that  her  lover  will  be 
purged  of  evil  by  her  prayers  and  fastings.  She  is  then 
thrown  into  prison,  after  being  put  upon  the  rack ;  when 
she  sees  her  lover  again  he  is  on  the  scaffold.  As  she 
watches  his  execution  from  her  prison  she  speaks  her  con- 
demnation of  the  methods  by  which  she  has  been  deceived, 
and  of  the  religion  which  could  lead  men  to  such  deeds. 
This  is  a  true  historical  picture  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
confessional  was  used  to  aid  the  Inquisition. 

Confessions.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

See  Corson  for  a  brief  interpretation. 

Constance.  The  cousin  of  the  Queen  in  In  a  Balcony, 
and  the  beloved  of  Norbert.  She  advises  her  lover  to  wait 
rather  than  ask  of  the  Queen,  who  is  a  hard,  selfish  woman, 
the  hand  of  her  he  loves.  The  Queen  supposes  that  Nor- 
bert's  devotion  is  wholly  from  interest  in  herself,  and  pro- 
poses to  marry  him,  for  she  has  grown  to  love  him.  When 
she  knows  the  truth  the  lovers  tremble  at  her  terrible  anger ; 
but  they  await  the  future  secure  in  each  other's  affection. 
See  essay  on  Miss  Alma  Murray's  Constance,  in  The  Brown- 
ing Society's  Papers  ;  2 :  33*. 


104  Corregidor.  —  Cristina. 

Corregidor.  In  How  it  Strikes  a  Contemporary,  the 
poet  who  goes  about  seeing  everything  that  is  done  and 
sending  report  of  it  to  "  our  Lord  the  King." 

Count  Gismond.  Aix  in  Provence.  First  published 
in  Dramatic  Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegra- 
nates, 1842.  It  there  appeared  with  the  title  France,  be- 
ing the  second  poem  under  the  general  title  of  Italy  and 
France,  My  Last  Duchess  being  the  first,  and  representing 
Italy.  In  1863  it  was  put  among  the  Romances  with  the 
present  title,  and  in  1868  it  was  classed  with  the  Dramatic 
Romances. 

In  his  Living  Authors  of  England,  Thomas  Powell  tells 
the  story  of  this  poem  as  follows :  "  An  orphan  girl  is 
brought  up  by  an  uncle  whose  two  daughters  are  envious 
of  their  cousin's  beauty  and  accomplishments ;  their  jealousy 
reaches  such  a  pitch  that  it  prompts  them  to  urge  the  be- 
trothed knight  of  one  of  them  to  accuse  the  beautiful  or- 
phan of  un chastity.  They  select  the  morning  of  the  day 
when  the  object  of  their  hatred  is  to  be  crowned  Queen  of 
the  May.  The  knight  accuses  her,  as  prompted  by  the 
cousins ;  another  knight,  who  secretly  loved  the  beautiful 
orphan,  gives  him  the  lie ;  they  fight ;  the  traducer  is  killed 
—  confessing,  ere  he  dies,  the  plot,  and  the  rescued  beauty 
rewards  the  noble  champion  with  her  hand.  When  she  is 
relating  this,  she  has  been  a  happy  wife  and  mother  for 
some  years.  The  scene  is  laid  in  France."  The  story  is 
wholly  imaginary,  but  it  gives  an  admirable  picture  of  the 
times  of  chivalry.  Mr.  Symons  says  "  the  mediaeval  temper 
of  entire  confidence  in  the  ordeal  by  duel  has  never  been 
better  rendered." 

Miss  Burt,  in  Browning's  Women,  chapter  on  "  complex- 
ity of  character,"  gives  a  careful  study  of  the  poem. 

Count  Guido  Franceschini.  The  husband  of  Pom- 
pilia  in  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  who  married  her  for 
money,  persecuted  her  cruelly,  and  when  she  escaped  from 
him  with  the  aid  of  Caponsacchi,  murdered  her  and  her 
parents.  His  trial  forms  the  subject  of  the  poem.  His  de- 
fense of  himself  forms  the  fifth  book  of  the  poem,  and  his 
confession  after  his  sentence  to  death  the  eleventh  book. 

Cristina.  First  printed  in  Dramatic  Lyrics,  third 
number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1842,  as  II.  under 


Cristina  and  Monaldeschi.  105 

the  general  title  of  Queen-Worship.  Poems,  1842,  by  it- 
self ;  Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

The  Cristina  of  this  poem  is  Christina  Maria,  daughter 
of  Francis  L,  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies.  She  was  born  in 
1806 ;  was  married,  in  1829,  to  Ferdinand  VII.,  King  of 
Spain  ;  became  Regent  in  1833,  on  the  death  of  the  King ; 
and  in  1843  her  daughter  ascended  the  throne  as  Isabel  II. 
Her  life  was  given  to  intrigue,  and  to  the  use  of  tyrannical 
power.  She  was  hated  by  those  she  ruled,  and  despised  by 
them  because  of  her  personal  character. 

Lord  Malmesbury,  in  his  Memoirs  of  an  Ex-Minister, 
gives  this  account  of  Christina,  before  her  marriage  to 
Ferdinand  :  — 

"  Mr.  Hill  presented  me  at  Court  before  I  left  Naples  [in 
1829].  .  .  .  The  Queen  [Maria  Isabella,  second  wife  of 
Francis  L,  King  of  the  Two  Sicilies]  and  the  young  and 
handsome  Princess  Christina,  afterwards  Queen  of  Spain, 
were  present.  The  latter  was  said  at  the  time  to  be  the 
cause  of  more  than  one  inflammable  victim  languishing  in 
prison  for  having  too  openly  admired  this  royal  coquette, 
whose  manners  with  men  foretold  her  future  life  after  her 
marriage  to  old  Ferdinand.  When  she  came  up  to  me  in 
the  circle,  walking  behind  her  mother,  she  stopped,  and 
took  hold  of  one  of  the  buttons  of  my  uniform,  to  see,  as 
she  said,  the  inscription  upon  it,  the  Queen  indignantly  call- 
ing to  her  to  come  on." 

The  poem  is  based  on  the  fact  that  a  young  man  who 
loved  Cristina,  and  with  whom  she  played  the  part  of  the 
coquette,  became  insane  because  of  her  heartless  treatment 
of  him. 

See  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  for  a  study  of 
the  poem. 

Cristina  and  Monaldeschi.     Jocoseria,  1883. 

The  subjects  of  this  poem  are  Queen  Christina  of  Sweden, 
daughter  of  Gustavus  Adolphus,  and  her  master  of  horse. 
She  was  born  in  1626,  was  highly  educated,  succeeded  hex- 
father  on  the  throne  in  1632,  under  the  regency  of  Oxen- 
stiern,  assumed  royal  power  in  1644,  concluded  the  treaty 
of  Westphalia  in  1648,  abdicated  in  favor  of  her  cousin, 
Charles  Augustus,  in  1650,  soon  after  embraced  the  Catholic 
faith,  and  spent  the  rest  of  her  life  in  Rome,  where  she  died 


106  Cristina  and  Monaldeschi. 

in  1689.  She  had  great  learning,  her  tastes  and  habits 
were  extravagant,  and  she  was  one  of  the  most  famous 
persons  of  her  time.  During  her  second  visit  to  France,  in 
1657,  she  caused  the  death  of  the  Marquis  Monaldeschi,  her 
grand  equerry.  She  was  given  apartments  at  the  palace 
of  Fontainebleau,  thirty-seven  miles  from  Paris,  up  the 
Seine,  or  to  the  southeast ;  and  here  the  murder  of  the 
marquis  took  place.  She  charged  Monaldeschi  with  treason, 
but  he  had  no  trial,  and  was  brutally  stabbed  to  death.  Her 
act  was  severely  condemned  at  the  time,  and  it  has  ever 
since  been  regarded  as  a  dark  stain  on  her  memory. 
Monaldeschi  is  described  as  being  greedy,  selfish,  ungrate- 
ful, false,  and  dishonorable.  He  was  a  bitter  enemy  of 
Sentinelli,  also  in  the  queen's  service;  and  this  man  he  tried 
to  betray  and  have  condemned  to  death.  It  was  Senti- 
nelli who  commanded  the  soldiers  who  murdered  Monaldes- 
chi ;  but  he  went  to  the  queen  and  plead  for  his  enemy's 
life.  Monaldeschi  asked  that  he  might  be  banished  from 
Europe,  but  this  the  Queen  refused.  When  the  Queen 
heard  that  Monaldeschi  would  not  finish  his  confession,  she 
said.  "  The  coward  !  wound  him,  and  thus  force  him  to  con- 
fess." Her  own  account  of  the  affair,  as  published  by  her 
court,  is  in  part  as  follows  :  — 

"  The  Queen  of  Sweden  had  conceived  some  suspicion  of 
the  Marquis  Monaldeschi,  her  Grand  Equerry,  and  this 
was  confirmed  daily  by  various  proofs  she  had  of  his 
treachery.  Watching  all  his  actions,  and  the  letters  written 
to  him,  she  discovered  that  he  was  betraying  her  interests, 
and  by  a  double  perfidy  was  scheming  to  fix  upon  an  inno- 
cent man,  also  an  officer  of  the  Queen's,  the  crime  of  which 
he  alone  was  guilty.  The  Queen  made  pretense  of  believing 
that  the  treachery  came  from  that  other,  and  assured  the 
Marquis  she  had  no  doubts  of  himself,  in  order  the  better  to 
discover  all.  The  Marquis  thinking  he  had  succeeded  in 
his  object,  said  one  day  to  the  Queen :  '  Madam,  Your 
Majesty  is  betrayed,  and  the  betrayer  is  the  absent  one 
known  to  Your  Majesty  and  me  ;  and  it  can  be  no  other. 
Your  Majesty  will  soon  find  out  who  it  is ;  I  beg  her  not  to 
pardon  him.'  The  Queen  said,  'What  does  the  man  de- 
serve who  betrays  me  ?  '  The  Marquis  said  :  '  Your  Majesty 
should  put  him  to  death  at  once,  and  I  offer  myself  to  be 


Cristina  and  Monaldeschi.  107 

executioner  or  victim,  for  't  is  an  act  of  justice.'  '  Good, ' 
replied  the  Queen,  '  remember  your  words ;  as  for  me  I 
promise  you  I  will  not  pardon  him.'  Meanwhile  she  had 
sealed  up  the  intercepted  letters,  which  she  placed  in  the 
hands  of  the  Prior  of  the  Maturins  at  Fontainebleau,  in 
order  to  present  them  to  the  Marquis,  when  it  should  be 
time.  He  on  his  side,  considering  that  several  posts  had 
passed  without  his  receiving  any  letters,  began  to  feel  some 
distrust,  and  endeavored  to  find  at  Lyons  another  surer 
correspondent ;  showing  further  by  different  actions  that  he 
was  thinking  of  flight.  Therefore  the  Queen,  wishing  to 
forestall  him,  on  the  10th  November  had  him  summoned 
to  the  Galerie  des  Cerfs  according  to  custom.  The  Marquis 
was  long  in  coming ;  he  did  so  at  length  trembling,  pale, 
out  of  countenance,  and  quite  another  man,  just  as  the  Court 
had  remarked  him  for  the  last  few  days  with  surprise.  The 
Queen  addressed  to  him  at  first  some  indifferent  observa- 
tions. Meanwhile  she  had  ordered  the  Prior  to  come  to 
the  gallery,  into  which  he  entered  by  a  door  that  was  im- 
mediately closed,  and  the  Captain  of  her  Guards  came  in 
by  another.  The  Queen  then  changed  her  talk,  and  having 
caused  the  Prior  to  give  back  the  letters,  she  showed  them 
to  the  Marquis,  and  reproached  him  with  his  enormous 
crime  and  his  horrible  treachery  ;  she  caused  also  all  the 
papers  he  had  on  him  to  be  taken  from  his  pockets,  among 
which  she  found  two  counterfeit  letters,  one  addressed  to 
the  Queen,  the  other  to  the  Marquis  himself,  whereby  she 
discovered  a  new  treason  against  her,  still  blacker  than  the 
preceding,  of  which  he  wished  to  make  use  in  order  to  con- 
firm the  bad  impression  he  had  attempted  to  give  her  against 
his  enemy." 

Father  le  Bel,  prior  of  the  Maturins,  as  an  eye-witness, 
told  how  the  marquis  was  put  to  death.  He  went  to  the 
gallery  carrying  the  letters  given  him  by  the  queen,  who 
took  them  out  of  the  package  and  showed  them  to  the 
Marquis,  who  said  they  were  copies.  Then  she  drew  out 
the  genuine  letters,  which  he  finally  confessed  were  his. 
He  laid  the  blame  on  other  persons,  but  finally  threw  him- 
self at  the  queen's  feet,  asking  pardon.  At  this  point  the 
three  guards  drew  their  swords,  which  were  not  returned 
until  the  marquis  was  dead.  "  But  before  this  consumma- 


108  Cristina  and  Monaldeschi. 

tion  he  got  up,  and  drawing  the  Queen  now  into  one  corner 
of  the  gallery,  now  into  another,  begged  her  unceasingly  to 
listen  to  his  justification.  This  she  did  not  refuse,  but 
listened  to  him  with  great  patience  and  moderation,  without 
showing  by  the  slightest  sign  that  his  importunity  was  dis- 
pleasing to  her.  .  .  .  This  conference  having  lasted  for 
more  than  an  hour,  and  the  Marquis  not  satisfying  the 
Queen,  she  approached  the  Prior,  and  said  to  him,  in  a  loud 
but  solemn  and  measured  voice,  '  Father,  I  leave  this  man 
in  your  hands ;  prepare  him  for  death,  and  have  care  for 
his  soul !  '  At  these  words  the  Prior,  as  terrified  as  if  the 
sentence  was  against  himself,  threw  himself  at  her  feet,  as 
well  as  the  Marquis,  to  ask  his  pardon.  She  said  she  could 
not  grant  it.  ... 

"  She  then  went  away,  leaving  the  Prior  with  the  three 
men,  with  their  swords  bared,  ready  to  kill  him.  When  she 
had  left  them,  the  Marquis  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  the 
Prior,  whom  he  implored  to  go  and  beg  for  his  pardon  ;  but 
the  three  men  pressed  him  to  confess  himself,  holding  their 
swords  against  his  body,  though  without  wounding  him. 
The  Prior,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  exhorted  him  to  ask 
pardon  of  God.  The  chief  of  the  three  went  to  find  the 
Queen,  to  implore  her  mercy  for  the  poor  Marquis ;  but  he 
came  back  again  very  sad,  and  said,  weeping,  '  Marquis, 
think  upon  God  and  your  soul,  you  must  die.'  The  Marquis, 
beside  himself,  threw  himself  for  the  second  time  at  the 
Prior's  feet,  pressing  him  to  go  yet  again  and  ask  his  pardon 
from  the  Queen.  He  did  so,  and  finding  the  Queen  in  her 
room,  her  countenance  calm  and  unmoved,  he  prostrated 
himself  at  her  feet ;  his  eyes  bathed  with  tears,  his  voice 
choked  with  sobs,  he  abjured  her,  by  the  passions  and 
wounds  of  the  Saviour,  to  have  mercy  upon  the  Marquis. 
She  told  him  how  sorry  she  was  not  to  be  able  to  grant  his 
request.  .  .  .  She  confined  her  wrath  to  the  enormity  of  his 
crime  and  his  treachery,  which  were  without  parallel,  and 
affected  all  the  world  :  further,  the  King  was  not  lodging 
her  as  a  prisoner,  or  an  exile  ;  she  was  mistress  of  her  own 
will,  and  could  do  justice  to  her  officers,  everywhere  and 
always  ;  that  she  had  to  answer  for  her  action  to  God  alone, 
adding  that  the  deed  was  not  without  precedent.  .  .  .  '  I 
will  let  the  King  know  of  it ;  return  and  have  a  care  of  his 


Cristina  and  MonaldescM.  109 

soul,  — I  cannot  in  conscience  do  what  you  ask  ; '  and  so  sent 
him  away.  The  Prior  remarked  by  the  change  of  tone  with 
which  she  pronounced  the  last  words,  that  if  she  could  have 
gone  back  and  changed  the  state  of  affairs  she  undoubtedly 
would  have  done  so,  but  having  gone  too  far,  she  could  no 
longer  draw  back  without  placing  herself  in  peril  of  her 
life,  had  the  Marquis  escaped. 

"  In  this  extremity  the  Prior  knew  not  what  to  do  ;  he 
could  not  go  away,  and  even  though  he  could,  the  duty  of 
charity  and  his  own  conscience  compelled  him  to  prepare 
the  Marquis  for  an  edifying  death.  Accordingly  he  went 
back  to  the  gallery,  and  embracing  the  poor  wretch,  whom 
he  bathed  with  his  tears,  he  exhorted  him,  in  the  most  ener- 
getic and  pathetic  terms  with  which  God  inspired  him,  to 
compose  himself  for  death,  and  bethink  himself  of  his  con- 
science, since  there  was  no  further  hope  of  life  for  him.  .  .  . 
At  this  sorrowful  news,  after  two  or  three  loud  shrieks,  he 
knelt  at  the  feet  of  the  Confessor  ;  .  .  .  the  Almoner  of  the 
Queen  arrived ;  .  .  .  the  Marquis  perceiving  him,  without 
waiting  for  absolution,  went  to  him ;  .  .  .  they  spoke  to- 
gether for  a  long  time  in  a  low  voice ;  the  Almoner  went 
out,  and  took  with  him  the  chief  of  the  three  commissioned 
to  execute  him.  Shortly  afterwards,  the  chief  returned 
alone,  and  said  to  him,  '  Marquis,  ask  pardon  of  God,  for 
without  any  further  delay  you  must  die  ;  have  you  con- 
fessed ? '  And  so  saying,  he  forced  him  against  the  wall  .  .  . 
and  gave  him  a  stab  in  the  stomach.  The  Marquis,  wish- 
ing to  guard  it,  seized  the  sword  in  his  right  hand  ;  the 
other,  in  drawing  it  back,  cut  off  three  fingers  of  his  hand, 
and  finding  his  sword  blunted,  he  said  to  a  companion  that 
the  Marquis  was  armed  underneath,  and  in  fact  he  had  a 
coat  of  mail  weighing  nine  or  ten  pounds  on.  He  then 
gave  him  another  stroke  in  the  face,  at  which  the  Marquis 
cried  out,  '  Father ' ;  the  Confessor  drew  near  him,  and  the 
others  stood  aside ;  .  .  .  this  received,  he  threw  himself  on 
the  floor,  and  as  he  fell  one  of  them  gave  him  a  blow  on 
the  top  of  the  head ;  ...  as  he  lay  on  his  stomach  he  made 
signs  for  them  to  cut  his  head  off.  .  .  .  Thus  the  Marquis 
ended  his  life  at  a  quarter  to  four  in  the  afternoon.  .  .  . 
The  Queen,  assured  of  the  Marquis'  death,  expressed  her 
regret  at  having  been  obliged  to  order  this  execution  of  the 


110  Cristina  and  Monaldeschi. 

Marquis,  but  that  it  concerned  justice  to  punish  him  for  his 
crime  and  treachery,  which  she  prayed  God  to  forgive  him. 
She  hade  the  Confessor  to  be  careful  and  take  him  away 
and  bury  him  ;  she  sent  two  hundred  livres  to  the  convent, 
to  pray  God  for  the  repose  of  the  said  Marquis'  soul." 

The  historical  accounts  of  the  death  of  Monaldeschi  give 
no  hint  that  he  was  the  lover  of  the  queen  ;  but  the  gossips 
and  memoir-writers  of  the  time  represent  their  relation  to 
have  been  of  this  kind,  and  Browning  has  followed  them 
faithfully.  The  Avon  of  the  poem  is  a  village  on  the  east 
side  of  the  Park  at  Fontainebleau,  Monaldeschi  being  buried 
in  its  little  church,  and  a  marble  put  in  the  pavement  to 
mark  his  grave.  The  name  of  the  queen  is  usually  spelled 
with  an  h,  and  not  as  Browning  gives  it. 

The  poem  opens  with  a  description  of  Francis  I.  and  his 
favorite  mistress,  Diana  of  Poitiers.  Francis  ruled  from 
1515  to  1547,  and  was  one  of  the  most  popular  monarchs 
of  the  sixteenth  century.  He  was  the  rival  and  the  pris- 
oner of  Charles  V.,  and  he  contested  with  Henry  VIII.  on 
"  the  field  of  the  cloth  of  gold."  His  wars  in  Italy  and  with 
Spain  were  of  great  importance ;  while  the  latter  part  of 
his  reign  was  marked  by  severe  persecutions  of  the  Protes- 
tants. He  was  frank,  generous,  and  of  good  breeding,  but 
passionate  and  a  libertine. 

"  The  chateau  or  palace  of  Fontainebleau,"  says  Baede- 
ker's Paris  and  its  Environs,  "  situated  on  the  southwest 
side  of  the  town,  is  said  to  occupy  the  site  of  a  fortified  cha- 
teau founded  by  Louis  VII.,  in  1162.  It  was  Francis  I., 
however,  who  converted  the  mediaeval  fortress  into  a  palace 
of  almost  unparalleled  extent  and  magnificence.  The  exte- 
rior is  less  imposing  than  that  of  some  other  contemporane- 
ous edifices,  as  the  building,  with  the  exception  of  several  pa- 
vilions, is  only  two  stories  in  height ;  but  the  interior,  which 
was  decorated  by  French  and  Italian  artists,  is  deservedly 
much  admired.  .  .  .  The  Galene  de  Diane,  or  de  la  Biblio- 
theque,  is  a  hall  eighty-eight  yards  in  length,  constructed 
under  Henri  IV.,  and  restored  by  Napoleon  I.  and  Louis 
XVIII.  It  contains  the  library  and  a  number  of  curiosities, 
including  Monaldeschi's  coat  of  mail.  Under  the  Galerie 
de  Diane  is  the  old  Galerie  des  Cerfs,  which  is  now  con- 
verted into  a  '  garde-meuble  '  and  is  not  shown  to  visitors. 


Daniel  Bartoli.  Ill 

It  was  in  this  room  in  1657  that  Queen  Christina  caused 
Count  Monaldeschi  to  be  put  to  death  after  a  pretended 
trial  for  treason.  Louis  XIV.  expressed  his  strong  disap- 
probation of  this  proceeding,  but  took  no  farther  steps  in 
the  matter,  and  Christina  continued  to  reside  at  Fontaine- 
bleau  for  two  years  longer." 

Among  other  parts  of  the  palace,  which  have  special 
reference  to  Francis  I.,  are  the  Galerie  d'Henri  II.,  or 
Salle  des  Fetes,  which  is  a  large  hall.  It  contains  the  ini- 
tial and  emblem  of  Diane  of  Poitiers  in  frequent  recurrence. 
The  Galerie  de  Francois  I.  is  another  large  hall.  "  It  is 
embellished  with  fourteen  large  compositions  by  Rosso 
Rossi,  representing  allegorical  and  mythological  scenes  re- 
lating to  the  history  and  adventures  of  Francis  I.  The 
paintings  are  separated  from  each  other  by  bas-reliefs, 
caryatides,  trophies,  and  medallions.  The  winged  sala- 
mander, being  the  king's  heraldic  emblem,  and  his  initial 
F  frequently  recur." 

F.  W.  Bain's  Christina,  Queen  of  Sweden,  London,  1889, 
is  an  enthusiastic  defense  of  the  queen  in  regard  to  this 
affair,  and  written  from  the  point  of  view  of  ardent  admi- 
ration. It  gives  the  best  account  of  her  life.  An  opposite, 
and  in  some  respects  more  truthful,  view  is  given  in  the 
Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  1888,  by  Madame  Vincent; 
translated  in  The  Living  Age,  December,  1888. 

Dance,  yellows  and  whites  and  reds.  First 
printed  in  a  small  book  called  the  New  Amphion,  published 
for  the  Edinburgh  University  Union  Fancy  Fair,  1886, 
accompanied  by  an  illustration.  In  1887  published  in  Par- 
leyings  with  Certain  People,  at  the  end  of  Gerard  de 
Lairesse. 

Daniel  Bartoli,  Parleyings  with.  Parleyings  with 
Certain  People  of  Importance  in  their  Day,  1887. 

Daniele  Bartoli  was  born  at  Ferrara  in  1608,  became  a 
Jesuit,  was  a  leading  preacher  of  that  order,  and  in  1650 
was  commissioned  by  the  Father-General  to  write  a  history 
of  the  order.  This  he  did  in  several  volumes  treating  very 
fully  of  its  labors  in  both  Asia  and  Europe.  Its  style  is 
attractive,  but  it  is  filled  with  superstition  and  miracle.  He 
also  wrote  several  works  on  morality,  on  physical  science, 
and  on  the  Italian  language.  He  was  made  the  Rector  of 
the  Roman  College  in  1671,  and  he  died  at  Rome  in  1685. 


112  Daniel  Bartoli. 

Browning  uses  Bartoli  and  his  credulity  in  regard  to  the 
miracles  and  saints  of  his  Church  as  a  means  of  showing 
that  the  true  saints  are  not  generally  canonized,  and  that 
what  they  do  and  are  have  little  comparison  with  Bartoli's 
unreal  men  and  women.  The  poem  is  not  devoted  to  a  dis- 
cussion of  Bartoli  or  his  teachings,  but  to  giving  an  account 
of  the  saint  in  whom  the  poet  believes.  Mrs.  Orr  tells  the 
story  of  this  saint. 

"  Mr.  Browning  claims  Don  Bartoli's  allegiance  for  a 
secular  saint ;  a  woman  more  divine  in  her  non-miraculous 
virtues  than  some  at  least  of  those  whom  the  Church  has 
canonized,  and  whose  existence  has  the  merit  of  not  being 
legendary.  The  saint  in  question  was  Marianne  Pajot, 
daughter  of  the  apothecary  of  Gaston,  Duke  of  Orleans ; 
and  her  story,  as  Browning  relates  it,  a  well-known  episode 
in  the  lives  of  Charles  IV.,  Duke  of  Lorraine,  and  the  Mar- 
quis de  Lassay.  Charles  of  Lorraine  fell  violently  in  love 
with  Marianne  Pajot,  whom  he  met  at  the  Luxembourg, 
when  visiting  Madame  d'Orleans,  his  sister.  She  was  so 
fair,  so  modest,  so  virtuous,  and  so  witty  that  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  offer  her  his  hand  ;  and  they  were  man  and  wife 
so  far  as  legal  formalities  could  make  them,  when  the  mon- 
arch, Louis  XIV.,  intervened.  Charles  had  by  a  recent 
treaty  made  Louis  his  heir.  This  threatened  no  obstacle 
to  his  union,  since  a  clause  in  the  marriage  contract  barred 
all  claims  to  succession  on  the  part  of  the  children  who 
might  be  born  of  it.  But  Madame  resented  the  mesal- 
liance ;  she  joined  her  persuasions  with  those  of  the  Minister 
le  Tellier;  and  the  latter  persuaded  the  young  King,  not 
absolutely  to  prevent  the  marriage,  but  to  turn  it  to  account. 
A  paper  was  drawn  up  pledging  the  Duke  to  fresh  conces- 
sions, and  the  bride  was  challenged  in  the  King's  name  to 
obtain  his  signature  to  it.  On  this  condition  she  was  to  be 
recognized  as  Duchess  with  all  the  honors  due  to  her  rank ; 
failing  this,  she  was  to  be  banished  to  a  convent.  The 
alternative  was  offered  to  her  at  the  nuptial  banquet,  at 
which  le  Tellier  had  appeared  —  a  carriage  and  military 
escort  awaiting  Trim  outside.  She  emphatically  declined 
taking  part  in  so  disgraceful  a  compact.  Her  reply  was 
that  if  she  possessed  any  influence  over  M.  de  Lorraine  she 
would  never  use  it  to  make  him  do  anything  so  contrary  to 


Daniel  Bartoli.  113 

his  honor  and  to  his  interests ;  she  already  sufficiently  re- 
proached herself  for  the  marriage  to  which  his  friendship 
for  her  had  impelled  him ;  and  would  rather  be  Marianne 
to  the  end  of  her  days  than  become  Duchess  on  such  con- 
ditions. The  reply  has  been  necessarily  modified  in  Mr. 
Browning's  more  poetic  rendering  of  the  scene.  And  after 
doing  her  best  to  allay  the  Duke's  wrath  (which  was  for  the 
moment  terrible),  she  calmly  allowed  the  Minister  to  lead 
her  away,  leaving  all  the  bystanders  in  tears.  A  few  days 
later  Marianne  returned  the  jewels  which  Charles  had  given 
her,  saying  it  was  not  suitable  that  she  should  keep  them, 
since  she  had  not  the  honor  of  being  his  wife.  He  seems  to 
have  resigned  her  without  farther  protest. 

"  De  Lassay  was  much  impressed  by  this  occurrence, 
though  at  the  time  only  ten  years  old.  He  too  conceived 
an  attachment  for  Marianne  Pajot,  and  married  her,  being 
already  a  widower,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three.  Their  union, 
dissolved  a  few  years  later  by  her  death,  was  one  of  un- 
clouded happiness  on  his  part,  of  unmixed  devotion  on  hers ; 
and  the  moral  dignity  by  which  she  had  subjugated  this 
somewhat  weak  and  excitable  nature  was  equally  attested 
by  the  intensity  of  her  husband's  sorrow  and  by  its  transi- 
toriness.  The  military  and  still  more  amorous  adventures 
of  the  Marquis  de  Lassay  make  him  a  conspicuous  figure 
in  the  annals  of  French  court  life.  He  is  indirectly  con- 
nected with  our  own  through  a  somewhat  pale  and  artificial 
passion  for  Sophia  Dorothea,  the  young  Princess  of  Han- 
over, whose  husband  became  ultimately  George  I.  Mr. 
Browning  indicates  the  later  as  well  as  the  earlier  stages  of 
de  Lassay's  career ;  he  only  follows  that  of  the  Duke  of 
Lorraine  into  an  imaginary  though  not  impossible  develop- 
ment. Charles  had  shown  himself  a  being  of  a  smaller 
spiritual  stature  than  his  intended  wife ;  and  it  was  only 
too  likely,  Mr.  Browning  thinks,  that  the  diamonds  which 
should  have  graced  her  neck  soon  sparkled  on  that  of  some 
venal  beauty  whose  challenge  to  his  admiration  proceeded 
from  the  opposite  pole  of  womanhood.  Nevertheless  he 
feels  kindly  towards  him.  The  nobler  love  was  not  dis- 
honored by  the  more  ignoble  fancy,  since  it  could  not  be 
touched  by  it.  Duke  Charles  was  still  faithful  as  a  man 
may  be." 


114       Deaf  and  Dumb.  —  "Z)e  Gustibus  — " 

See  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  and  a  paper  by 
Arthur  Symons  in  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  num- 
ber nine. 

Deaf  and  Dumb.  A  Group  by  Woolner.  This 
poem  was  written  in  1862  for  Woolner's  partly-draped 
group  of  Constance  and  Arthur,  the  deaf  and  dumb  chil- 
dren of  Sir  Thomas  Fairbairn,  which  was  exhibited  at  the 
International  Exhibition  of  1862 ;  but  the  lines  did  not  ap- 
pear in  the  Exhibition  Catalogue.  It  was  first  published 
in  the  Poetical  Works  of  1868,  volume  vi.,  in  the  Dramatis 
Personal ;  and  it  has  retained  the  same  place  in  subsequent 
editions. 

Death  in  the  Desert,  A.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

The  narrative  of  this  poem  is  not  historical,  but  some  of 
the  early  legends  about  St.  John  were  probably  used  by  the 
poet.  Cerinthus  was  a  contemporary  of  John,  according  to 
Irenseus;  but  Eusebius  places  him  a  little  later,  early  in  the 
second  century.  He  was  educated  in  Egypt,  taught  in  Asia 
Minor,  and  maintained  Gnostic  doctrines.  He  held  that 
Jesus  was  the  natural  offspring  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  that 
the  Christ  became  incarnated  in  Jesus  after  his  baptism, 
and  that  the  world  was  created  by  a  demiurge,  not  by  God 
himself.  The  poem  refers  to  some  of  these  theories,  and  it 
also  combats  the  teachings  of  Strauss,  who  wrote  a  ration- 
alistic biography  of  Jesus,  to  prove  that  Jesus  was  a  mere 
man,  that  John  did  not  write  the  Gospel  which  bears  his 
name,  and  that  Christianity  was  largely  an  outgrowth  from 
Neoplatonic  and  other  similar  tendencies.  He  tried  to 
show  the  subjective  origin  of  Christianity,  that  it  did  not 
have  a  supernatural  origin,  and  that  the  miracles  were 
either  naturalistic,  subjective  or  legendary  in  their  nature. 
Browning  writes  this  poem  to  combat  these  opinions,  to 
maintain  the  truthfulness  of  Christianity,  and  its  trust- 
worthiness as  a  spiritual  interpretation  of  life  and  the 
world. 

In  number  nine  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers, 
2 :  153,  is  an  extended  analysis  and  interpretation  of  the 
poem,  by  Mrs.  M.  G.  Glazebrook.  A  good  interpretation 
of  the  poem  is  given  in  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts. 

"De  Gustibus — "  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 


Development.  —  Dis  aliter  Visum.  115 

The  speaker  is  a  man,  who  first  describes  his  friend's 
love  of  a  rural  English  scene,  and  then  his  own  love  of  a 
castle  among  the  Apennines. 

Development.     Asolando,  1889. 

This  poem  is  autobiographical,  giving  an  account  of  the 
manner  in  which  Browning  was  taught  by  his  father.  Mr. 
Sharp  says  the  father  "  was  a  man  of  exceptional  powers. 
He  was  a  poet,  both  in  sentiment  and  expression,  and  he 
understood,  as  well  as  enjoyed,  the  excellent  in  art.  He 
was  a  scholar,  too,  in  a  reputable  fashion ;  not  indiffer- 
ent to  what  he  had  learnt  in  his  youth,  nor  heedless  of  the 
high  opinion  generally  entertained  for  the  greatest  writers 
of  antiquity,  but  with  a  particular  care  himself  for  Horace 
and  Anacreon.  As  his  son  once  told  a  friend,  '  The  old 
gentleman's  brain  was  a  storehouse  of  literary  and  philo- 
sophical antiquities.'  " 

To  Mrs.  Corson,  a  week  or  two  before  his  death,  Brown- 
ing said  :  "  It  would  have  been  quite  unpardonable  in  my 
case  not  to  have  done  my  best.  My  dear  father  put  me  in 
a  condition  most  favorable  for  the  best  work  I  was  capable 
of.  He  secured  for  me  all  the  love  and  comfort  that  a  lit- 
erary man  needs  to  do  good  work.  It  would  have  been 
shameful  if  I  had  not  done  my  best  to  realize  his  expecta- 
tions of  me." 

Philipp  Karl  Suttmann,  1764-1829,  was  a  German 
scholar,  famous  for  his  Greek  grammars  and  lexicogra- 
phy. Friedrich  August  Wolf,  1759-1824,  a  German 
scholar,  first  put  forth,  in  his  Prolegomena  ad  Homerum, 
the  theory  that  the  Homeric  poems  were  not  the  work  of 
one  man,  but  the  product  of  a  number  of  writers  of  songs 
or  rhapsodies,  whose  poems  were  finally  combined  into  one 
work. 

Dis  aliter  Visum ;  or,  Le  Byron  de  nos  Jours. 
Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

Dr.  Daniel  G.  Brinton  thinks  this  poem  is  as  dainty  and 
delicate  as  any  vers  de  societe,  and  adds  of  the  seventh 
verse:  "  I  think  when  Browning  wrote  that  he  must  have 
had  in  mind  the  passage  from  Jean  Paul  Richter  which 
Alfred  Musset  places  for  motto  to  that  blood-curdling  piece 
of  his  called  Suzon.  '  Happy  is  he,'  says  Jean  Paul, 
'  whose  heart  asks  not  save  a  heart,  and  who  desires 


116  Djabal.  —  Donald. 

neither  an  English  park,  nor  an  opera  seria,  nor  the  music  of 
Mozart,  nor  a  picture  by  Raphael,  nor  an  eclipse  of  the 
moon,  nor  even  light  of  moon,  and  neither  scenes  from  a 
romance,  nor  yet  their  fulfillment ! ' ' 

The  reference  in  the  twelfth  verse  is  to  the  forty  mem- 
bers of  the  French  Academy,  and  to  the  election  of  a  new 
member  whenever  one  of  their  number  dies. 

Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts  gives  a  suggestive  in- 
terpretation. 

Djabal.  The  young  leader  who  claims  to  be  the  Ha- 
keem in  The  Return  of  the  Druses.  He  is  a  mystic  and 
schemer  who  half  believes  in  his  own  claim,  but  who  finally 
fails,  confesses  to  Anael,  and  stabs  himself  on  her  dead 
body. 

Doctor Dramatic  Idyls,  Second  Series,  1880. 

The  story  told  in  this  poem  is  similar  to  one  contained  in 
Roquette's  Gevatter  Tod,  in  which  a  young  doctor  is  be- 
friended by  Death,  who  shows  himself  at  the  head  of  the 
bed,  when  the  patient  is  to  die.  The  outcome  of  the  story 
is  different,  however.  Mrs.  Orr  says  it  is  an  old  Hebrew 
legend,  founded  upon  the  saying  that  a  bad  wife  is  stronger 
than  death.  Professor  Toy,  Harvard  University,  sends  the 
author  this  note  :  "  I  have  heard  of  Browning's  story  of 
Death  (Satan)  and  his  wife,  as  a  Jewish  oral  legend,  appar- 
rently  invented  as  a  commentary  on  Ecclesiastes  7  : 26.  I 
know  of  no  written  form  of  the  story." 

Dominus  Hyacinthus.  The  advocate  for  the  poor, 
who,  in  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  presents  the  case  for 
Count  Guido.  His  speech  forms  the  eighth  book  of  the 
poem. 

Domizia.  The  noble  Florentine  lady,  in  Luria,  who 
is  loved  by  that  leader  of  the  army  of  Florence,  and  who 
advises  him  against  vengeance  when  he  finds  that  he  is  be- 
trayed. 

Donald.     Jocoseria,  1883. 

The  story  contained  in  this  poem  was  told  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott  in  The  Keepsake,  for  1832,  an  annual  published  by 
Longman,  London.  After  a  brief  introduction,  in  which 
he  suggests  that  the  "  singular  incident "  he  relates  is 
adapted  for  illustration,  Scott  tells  his  story  in  these  words  : 

"  The  story  is  an  old  but  not  an  ancient  one  :  the  actor 


Donald.  117 

and  sufferer  was  not  a  very  aged  man,  when  I  heard  the 
anecdote  in  my  early  youth.  Duncan,  for  so  I  shall  call 
him,  had  been  engaged  in  the  affair  of  1746  [the  invasion 
of  England  by  Prince  Charles  Edward  Stuart,  the  '  young 
Pretender '  to  the  throne  of  England]  with  others  of  his 
clan  ;  and  was  supposed  by  many  to  have  been  an  accom- 
plice, if  not  the  principal  actor  in  a  certain  tragic  affair, 
which  made  much  noise  a  good  many  years  after  the  rebel- 
lion. I  am  content  with  indicating  this,  in  order  to  give 
some  idea  of  the  man's  character,  which  was  bold,  fierce, 
and  enterprising.  Traces  of  this  natural  disposition  still  re- 
mained on  Duncan's  very  good  features,  and  in  his  keen  gray 
eye.  But  the  limbs  had  become  unable  to  serve  the  pur- 
poses and  obey  the  dictates  of  his  inclination.  On  the  one 
side  of  his  body  he  retained  the  proportions  and  firmness 
of  an  active  mountaineer ;  on  the  other,  he  was  a  disabled 
cripple,  scarce  able  to  limp  along  the  streets.  The  cause 
which  reduced  him  to  this  state  of  infirmity  was  singular. 

"  Twenty  years  or  more  before  I  knew  Duncan,  he 
assisted  his  brothers  in  farming  a  large  grazing  [a  pastoral 
farm]  in  the  Highlands,  comprehending  an  extensive  range 
of  mountain  and  forest  land,  morass,  lake,  and  precipice. 
It  chanced  that  a  sheep  or  goat  was  missed  from  the  flock, 
and  Duncan,  not  satisfied  with  dispatching  his  shepherds  in 
one  direction,  went  himself  in  quest  of  the  fugitive  in  an- 
other. 

"  In  the  course  of  his  researches,  he  was  induced  to  as- 
cend a  small  and  narrow  path,  leading  to  the  top  of  a  high 
precipice.  Dangerous  as  it  was  at  first,  the  road  became 
doubly  so  as  he  advanced.  It  was  not  much  more  than  two 
feet  broad,  so  rugged  and  difficult,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
so  terrible,  that  it  would  have  been  impracticable  to  any 
but  the  light  step  and  steady  brain  of  a  Highlander.  The 
precipice  on  the  right  rose  like  a  wall,  and  on  the  left  sunk 
to  a  depth  which  it  was  giddy  to  look  down  upon,  but  Dun- 
can passed  cheerfully  on,  now  whistled  the  Gathering  of 
his  clan,  now  taking  heed  to  his  footsteps,  when  the  difficul- 
ties of  the  path  peculiarly  required  caution. 

"  In  this  manner,  he  had  more  than  half  ascended  the 
precipice,  when  in  midway,  and  it  might  almost  be  said,  in 
middle  air,  he  encountered  a  buck  of  the  red-deer  species 


118  Donald. 

coming  down  the  cliff  by  the  same  path  in  an  opposite  di- 
rection. If  Duncan  had  had  a  gun  no  rencontre  could  have 
been  more  agreeable,  but  as  he  had  not  this  advantage  over 
the  denizen  of  the  wilderness,  the  meeting  was  in  the  high- 
est degree  unwelcome.  Neither  party  had  the  power  of  re- 
treating, for  the  stag  had  not  room  to  turn  himself  in  the 
narrow  path,  and  if  Duncan  had  turned  his  back  to  go  down 
he  knew  enough  of  the  creature's  habits  to  be  certain  that 
he  would  rush  upon  him  while  engaged  in  the  difficulties  of 
the  retreat.  They  stood  therefore  perfectly  still,  and  looked 
at  each  other  in  mutual  embarrassment  for  some  space. 

"  At  length  the  deer,  which  was  of  the  largest  size,  began 
to  lower  his  formidable  antlers,  as  they  do  when  they  are 
brought  to  bay,  and  are  preparing  to  rush  upon  hound  and 
huntsman.  Duncan  saw  the  danger  of  a  conflict  in  which 
he  must  probably  come  by  the  worst,  and,  as  a  last  resource, 
stretched  himself  on  the  little  ledge  of  rock  which  he  occu- 
pied, and  thus  awaited  the  resolution  which  the  deer  should 
take,  not  making  the  least  motion  for  fear  of  alarming  the 
wild  and  suspicious  animal.  They  remained  in  this  posture 
for  three  or  four  hours,  in  the  midst  of  a  rock  which  would 
have  suited  the  pencil  of  Salvator,  and  which  afforded 
barely  room  for  the  man  and  the  stag,  opposed  to  each 
other  in  this  extraordinary  manner. 

"  At  length  the  buck  seemed  to  take  the  resolution  of  pass- 
ing over  the  obstacle  which  lay  in  his  path,  and  with  this 
purpose  approached  towards  Duncan  very  slowly,  and  with 
excessive  caution.  When  he  came  close  to  the  Highlander 
he  stooped  his  head  down  as  if  to  examine  him  more  closely, 
when  the  devil,  or  the  untamable  love  of  sport,  peculiar  to 
bis  country,  began  to  overcome  Duncan's  fears.  Seeing  the 
animal  proceed  so  gently,  he  totally  forgot  not  only  the 
dangers  of  his  position,  but  the  implicit  compact  which  cer- 
tainly might  have  been  inferred  from  the  circumstances 
of  the  situation.  With  one  hand  Duncan  seized  the  deer's 
horn,  whilst  with  the  other  he  drew  his  dirk.  But  in  the 
same  instant  the  buck  bounded  over  the  precipice,  carrying 
the  Highlander  along  with  him.  They  went  thus  down  up- 
wards of  a  hundred  feet,  and  were  found  the  next  morning 
on  the  spot  where  they  fell.  Fortune,  who  does  not  always 
regard  retributive  justice  in  her  dispensations,  ordered  that 


Dramatic  Idyls.  —  Dramatic  Lyrics.        119 

the  deer  should  fall  undermost  and  be  killed  on  the  spot, 
•while  Duncan  escaped  with  life,  but  with  the  fracture  of  a 
leg,  an  arm,  and  three  ribs.  In  this  state  he  was  found 
lying  on  the  carcass  of  the  deer,  and  the  injuries  which  he 
had  received  rendered  him  for  the  remainder  of  his  life  the 
cripple  I  have  described.  I  never  could  approve  of  Dun- 
can's conduct  towards  the  deer  in  a  moral  point  of  view 
(although,  as  the  man  in  the  play  said,  he  was  my  friend), 
but  the  temptation  of  a  hart  of  grease,  offering,  as  it  were, 
his  throat  to  the  knife,  would  have  subdued  the  virtue  of 
almost  any  deer-stalker.  I  have  given  you  the  story  exactly 
as  I  recollect  it." 

Mrs.  Orr  says  this  "is  a  true  story,  repeated  to  Mr. 
Browning  by  one  who  had  heard  it  from  its  hero,  the  so- 
called  Donald,  himself."  The  fact  that  Browning  had  the 
story  given  him  by  word  of  mouth  will  explain  the  slight 
variations  between  his  narrative  and  that  by  Scott. 

Dramatic  Idyls.  Published  in  1879,  by  Smith,  Elder 
and  Co.,  15  Waterloo  Place,  London.  Pages,  i.— vi.,  1—143. 
The  contents  of  this  First  Series  were  as  follows :  Martin 
Relph ;  Pheidippides ;  Halbert  and  Hob  ;  Ivan  Ivanovitch ; 
Tray ;  Ned  Bratts. 

The  Second  Series,  by  the  same  publishers,  1880.  Pages, 
i.-viii.,  1-149.  Contents :  [Prologue]  ;  Echetlos  ;  Clive  ; 

Mule*ykeh  ;  Pietro  of  Abano ;  Doctor  ;  Pan  and 

Luna ;  [Epilogue]. 

No  changes  have  been  made  in  these  two  series  of  poems, 
in  order  of  arrangement  or  in  titles. 

See  Fortnightly  Review,  Grant  Allen,  32  :  149 ;  Con- 
temporary Review,  Mrs.  Orr,  35  :  289;  Fraser's  Maga- 
zine, 100  :  103 ;  St.  James  Magazine,  Thomas  Bayne, 
47  :  108  ;  The  Academy,  Frank  Wedmore,  May  10,  1879 ; 
The  Athenceum,  July  10,  1880. 

Dramatic  Lyrics.  This  is  the  title  given  to  the  third 
number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  published  in  1842, 
which  was  prefaced  by  these  words  :  — 

ADVERTISEMENT. 

Such  poems  as  the  following  come  properly  enough,  I  suppose, 
under  the  title  of  *'  Dramatic  Pieces"  ;  being,  though  for  the  most 
part  Lyric  in  expression,  always  Dramatic  in  principle,  and  so  many 
utterances  of  so  many  imaginary  persons,  not  mine.  R.  B. 


120  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

Dramatic  Lyrics  contained  the  following  poems :  Cava- 
lier Tunes  :  I.  Marching  Along.  II.  Give  a  Rouse.  III. 
My  Wife  Gertrude ;  Italy  and  France :  I.  Italy.  II. 
France ;  Camp  and  Cloister :  I.  Camp  (French).  II. 
Cloister  (Spanish)  ;  In  a  Gondola ;  Artemis  Prologizes ; 
Waring :  I.  "  What 's  become  of  Waring  ?  "  II.  "  When 
I  last  saw  Waring "  ;  Queen- Worship  :  I.  Rudel  and  the 
Lady  of  Tripoli.  II.  Cristina  ;  Madhouse  Cells  :  I. 
"  There  's  Heaven  above."  II.  "  The  rain  set  early  in 
to  -  night  "  ;  Through  the  Metidja  to  Ahd-el-Kadr,  1842  ; 
The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  a  Child's  Story. 

In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  several  other  poems  were 
added  to  these,  and  the  entire  collection,  here  called  Lyrics 
simply,  was  as  follows :  Cavalier  Tunes :  I.  Marching 
Along.  II.  Give  a  Rouse.  III.  Boot  and  Saddle  ;  The 
Lost  Leader ;  "  How  They  brought  the  Good  News  from 
Ghent  to  Aix  "  ;  Through  the  Metidja  to  Abd-el-Kader ; 
Nationality  in  Drinks  :  I.  Claret.  II.  Tokay.  III.  Beer ; 
Garden  Fancies :  I.  The  Flower's  Name.  II.  Sibrandus 
Schafnaburgensis.  III.  Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister  ; 
The  Laboratory  ;  The  Confessional ;  Cristina ;  The  Lost 
Mistress  ;  Earth's  Immortalities  ;  Meeting  at  Night ;  Part- 
ing at  Morning ;  Song ;  A  Woman's  Last  Word  ;  Evelyn 
Hope ;  Love  among  the  Ruins ;  A  Lover's  Quarrel ;  Up  at 
a  Villa  —  Down  in  the  City  ;  A  Toccata  of  Galuppi's  ;  Old 
Pictures  in  Florence  ;  "  De  Gustibus  —  "  ;  Home  Thoughts, 
from  Abroad ;  Home  Thoughts,  from  the  Sea ;  Saul ;  My 
Star ;  By  the  Fireside  ;  Any  Wife  to  Any  Husband ;  Two 
in  the  Campagna ;  Misconceptions ;  A  Serenade  at  the 
Villa ;  One  Way  of  Love ;  Another  Way  of  Love ;  A 
Pretty  Woman  ;  Respectability  ;  Love  in  a  Life ;  Life 
in  a  Love  ;  In  Three  Days ;  In  a  Year ;  Women  and 
Roses  ;  Before  ;  After  ;  The  Guardian- Angel  —  a  Picture  at 
Fano  ;  Memorabilia ;  Popularity ;  Master  Hugues  of  Saxe- 
Gotha. 

In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1868  this  collection  again  re- 
ceived the  title  of  Dramatic  Lyrics.  One  or  two  minor 
changes  were  made  in  titles,  but  the  order  of  the  poems  was 
the  same.  The  edition  of  1888  also  showed  one  or  two 
trifling  changes  in  titles  ;  these  are  mentioned  under  each 
poem. 


Dramatic  Romances.  121 

Dramatic  Romances.  The  seventh  number  of  Bells 
and  Pomegranates,  1845,  was  called  Dramatic  Romances 
and  Lyrics.  The  author's  name  was  given  as  "  Robert 
Browning,  Author  of  Paracelsus."  The  price  was  two  shil- 
lings. The  dedication  was  to  John  Kenyon,  and  was  dated 
"  Nov.  1845:"  It  contained  the  following  poems  :  How  they 
brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent  to  Aix  (16 — )  ;  Pictor 
Ignotus,  Florence,  15 — ;  Italy  in  England ;  England  in 
Italy ;  The  Lost  Leader ;  The  Lost  Mistress ;  Home 
Thoughts,  from  Abroad :  I.  "  Oh,  to  be  in  England." 
II.  "  Here  's  to  Nelson's  Memory."  III.  "  Nobly  Cape 
St.  Vincent "  ;  The  Tomb  at  St.  Praxed's ;  Garden  Fan- 
cies :  I.  The  Flower's  Name.  II.  Sibrandus  Schafna- 
burgensis  ;  France  and  Spain :  I.  The  Laboratory  (An- 
cien  Re'gime).  II.  The  Confessional  ;  The  Flight  of  the 
Duchess ;  Earth's  Immortalities :  I.  "  See,  as  the  pret- 
tiest graves."  II.  "  So,  the  year  's  done  with  "  ;  Song  ; 
The  Boy  and  the  Angel ;  Night  and  Morning :  I.  Night. 
II.  Morning ;  Claret  and  Tokay  :  I.  "  My  heart  sunk 
with  our  claret-flask."  II.  "  Up  jumped  Tokay  on  our 
table  "  ;  Saul  (first  part)  ;  Time's  Revenges  ;  The  Glove 
(Peter  Ron  sard  loquitur). 

This  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates  was  reviewed 
by  Douglas  Jerrold  in  his  Shilling  Magazine,  in  part  as 
follows  :  "  The  poems  published  in  this  humble  form  seem  to 
us  the  utterances  of  one  of  the  few  real  poets  of  the  age.  .  .  . 
He  has  a  soul  of  fire,  and  casts  away  every  detail,  every 
thought,  that  does  not  ministrate  to  the  portrayal  of  the  pas- 
sion with  which  every  line  of  his  productions  is  fraught. 
This  it  is  that  makes  his  poetry  so  abrupt,  so  fragmentary, 
and  to  those  whose  suggestive  powers  are  sluggish,  obscure. 
These  qualities,  which  are  objected  to  by  some  persons  as 
blemishes,  we  take  to  be  proofs  of  the  Poet's  genuine  in- 
spiration. They  display  the  terrible  energy  of  his  concep- 
tions —  the  truth  and  earnestness  of  his  visions." 

In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  the  poems  contained  in 
this  collection,  and  in  Dramatic  Lyrics,  as  well  as  Men  and 
Women,  were  redistributed,  and  a  part  of  them  classed 
under  the  title  Romances,  as  follows:  Incident  of  the 
French  Camp  ;  The  Patriot  —  An  Old  Story  ;  My  Last 
Duchess  —  Ferrara ;  Count  Gismond  —  Aix  in  Provence ; 


122  Dramatis  Personce.  —  The  Eagle, 

The  Boy  and  the  Angel ;  Instans  Tyrannus  ;  Mesmerism  ; 
The  Glove ;  Time's  Revenges  ;  The  Italian  in  England ; 
The  Englishman  in  Italy  —  Piano  di  Sorrento  ;  In  a  Gon- 
dola ;  Waring  ;  The  Twins  ;  A  Light  "Woman  ;  The  Last 
Ride  Together;  The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin ;  a  Child's 
Story ;  The  Flight  of  the  Duchess ;  A  Grammarian's 
Funeral ;  Johannes  Agricola  in  Meditation  ;  The  Heretic's 
Tragedy  —  A  Middle-Age  Interlude  ;  Holy-Cross  Day  ; 
Protus ;  The  Statue  and  the  Bust ;  Porphyria's  Lover ; 
"  Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  Came."  The  same 
order  was  preserved  in  the  Poetical  Works  of  1868  ;  but  a 
few  minor  changes  were  made  in.  the  titles,  which  are  noticed 
under  each  individual  poem  in  the  present  volume. 

Dramatis  Personae.  This  volume  was  published  in 
1864,  by  Chapman  and  Hall,  193  Piccadilly,  London. 
Pages,  i.-vi.,  1-250.  Contents  as  follows  :  James  Lee  ;  Gold 
Hair,  a  Legend  of  Pornic  ;  The  Worst  of  It ;  Dis  Aliter 
Visum,  or  Le  Byron  de  nos  Jours  ;  Too  Late  ;  Abt  Vo- 
gler  (after  he  has  been  extemporizing  upon  the  Musical 
Instrument  of  his  Invention)  ;  Rabbi  ben  Ezra  ;  A  Death 
in  the  Desert ;  Caliban  upon  Setebos,  or  Natural  Theology 
in  the  Island  ;  Confessions  ;  May  and  Death  ;  Prospice  ; 
Youth  and  Art ;  A  Face  ;  A  Likeness  ;  Mr.  Sludge,  "  the 
Medium  "  ;  Apparent  Failure  ;  Epilogue. 

This  collection  was  reproduced  in  the  Poetical  Woi'ks  of 
1868,  with  two  poems  added,  as  follows  :  Deaf  and  Dumb, 
a  Group  by  Woolner ;  Eurydice  to  Orpheus,  a  Picture  by 
Leighton.  No  changes  have  been  made  in  subsequent  edi- 
tions. 

See  St.  James  Magazine,  10  :  477  ;  Golburn's  Magazine, 
T.  F.  Wedmore,  133  :  186 ;  Dublin  University  Review, 
64 :  593 ;  Eclectic  Review,  E.  P.  Hood,  7  :  62. 

Dubiety.     Asolando,  1889. 

Eagle,  The.     The  first  poem  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

A  dervish  is  a  Mohammedan  religious  mendicant,  in  Persia, 
India,  or  Turkey.  The  name  signifies  "  the  sill  of  the  door," 
and  refers  to  the  fact  that  the  members  of  the  order  beg 
from  door  to  door  as  a  means  of  livelihood.  Some  wander 
through  the  country,  and  others  live  in  monasteries.  The 
order  is  thought  to  have  had  its  origin  in  Sufuism,  the 
mystical  form  of  Mohammedism.  Their  worship  is  essen' 


The  Eagle.  —  Earth's  Immortalities.         123 

tially  mystical  in  its  nature,  consisting  of  prayers,  dances, 
and  frequent  mortifications. 

This  poem  is  simply  a  versification  of  a  fable  drawn  from 
The  Fables  of  Pilpay,  published  in  London,  1818.  See 
Ferishtah's  Fancies  for  an  account  of  these  fables.  As 
contained  in  this  book  the  fable  reads  as  follows  :  — 

"  THE  DEBVISE,  THE  FALCON,  AND  THE  RAVEN. 

"  A  certain  Dervise  used  to  relate,  that  in  his  youth  once 
passing  through  a  wood,  and  admiring  the  works  of  the 
great  Author  of  nature,  he  spied  a  Falcon  that  held  a  piece 
of  flesh  in  his  beak ;  and  hovering  about  a  tree,  tore  the 
flesh  in  bits,  and  gave  it  to  a  young  Raven  that  lay  bald 
and  featherless  in  its  nest.  The  Dervise  admiring  the 
bounty  of  Providence,  in  a  rapture  of  admiration  cried 
out,  '  Behold  this  poor  bird,  that  is  not  able  to  seek  out 
sustenance  for  himself,  is  not  however  forsaken  of  its  Cre- 
ator, who  spreads  the  whole  world  like  a  table,  where  all 
creatures  have  their  food  provided  for  them  !  He  extends 
his  liberality  so  far,  that  the  serpent  finds  wherewith  to  live 
upon  the  mountain  of  Gahen  [a  mountain  in  the  East,  fa- 
mous for  a  vast  number  of  venomous  animals].  Why  then 
am  I  so  greedy,  and  wherefore  do  I  run  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  and  plough  up  the  ocean  for  bread  ?  Is  it  not  bet- 
ter that  I  should  henceforward  confine  myself  in  repose  to 
some  little  corner,  and  abandon  myself  to  fortune  ? '  Upon 
this  he  retired  to  his  cell,  where,  without  putting  himself  to 
any  farther  trouble  for  anything  in  the  world,  he  remained 
three  days  and  three  nights  without  victuals.  At  last, '  Serv- 
ant of  mind,'  said  the  Creator  to  him  in  a  dream,  '  know 
thou  that  all  things  in  this  world  have  their  causes:  and 
though  my  providence  can  never  be  limited,  my  wisdom 
requires  that  men  shall  make  use  of  the  means  that  I  have 
ordained  them.  If  thou  wouldst  imitate  any  one  of  the 
birds  thou  hast  seen  to  my  glory,  use  the  talents  I  have 
given  thee,  and  imitate  the  Falcon  that  feeds  the  Raven, 
and  not  the  Raven  that  lies  a  sluggard  in  his  nest,  and  ex- 
pects his  food  from  another.'  This  example  shows  us,  that 
we  are  not  to  lead  idle  and  lazy  lives  upon  the  pretense  of 
depending  upon  Providence." 

Earth's  Immortalities.     Published  in  Dramatic  Ro* 


124  Echetlos. 

mances  and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates, 1845.  The  two  poems  appeared  as  I.  and  II., 
without  the  subtitles,  which  were  added  in  1888.  In  the 
Poetical  Works  of  1863  this  poem  was  classed  among  the 
Lyrics,  which  in  1868  became  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

Echetlos.     Dramatic  Idyls,  Second  Series,  1880. 

This  poem  is  based  on  a  legend  given  in  Pausanias'  De- 
scription of  Greece,  chapter  thirty-two  of  the  first  book, 
which  is  devoted  to  Attica.  Pausanias  gives  this  account 
of  the  place  where  the  battle  of  Marathon  was  fought :  — 

"'The  township  of  Marathon  is  about  equidistant  from 
Athens  and  Carystus  in  Euboaa.  It  was  this  part  of  Attica 
that  the  Persians  landed  at,  and  were  defeated,  and  lost 
some  of  their  ships  as  they  were  putting  out  to  sea  in  re- 
treat. And  in  the  plain  is  the  tomb  of  the  Athenians,  and 
on  it  are  pillars  with  the  names  of  the  dead  according  to 
their  tribes.  And  another  for  the  Plataeans  of  Boaotia  and 
their  slaves ;  for  this  was  the  first  engagement  in  which 
slaves  fought.  And  there  is  apart  a  monument  to  Miltiades 
the  son  of  Cimon,  whose  death  occurred  afterwards,  when  he 
failed  to  capture  Paros,  and  was  on  that  account  put  on  his 
trial  by  the  Athenians.  Here  every  night  one  may  hear 
horses  neighing  and  men  fighting :  those  who  come  on  pur- 
pose to  see  the  sight  suffer  for  their  curiosity,  but  if  they 
are  there  as  spectators  accidentally  the  wrath  of  the  gods 
harms  them  not.  And  the  people  of  Marathon  highly  honor 
those  that  fell  in  the  battle,  calling  them  heroes,  as  also  they 
pay  honors  to  Marathon  (from  whom  the  township  gets  its 
name)  and  Hercules,  whom  they  say  they  first  of  all  the 
Greeks  worshiped  as  a  god.  And  it  chanced,  as  they  say, 
in  the  battle  that  a  man  of  rustic  appearance  and  dress  ap- 
peared, who  slew  many  of  the  Persians  with  a  ploughshare, 
and  vanished  after  the  fight :  and  when  the  Athenians  made 
inquiry  of  the  oracle,  the  god  gave  no  other  answer,  but 
bade  them  honor  the  god  Echetlseus.  And  a  trophy  of 
white  stone  was  erected  there." 

The  meaning  of  "  Echetlos  "  is  "  wielder  of  the  plough- 
share." A  picture  of  this  hero  was  in  the  Poecile  at  Athens. 
Browning  contrasts  him  with  Miltiades,  who  made  war  on 
Paros  for  his  own  personal  gain ;  and  Themistokles,  who 
went  over  to  the  Persians. 


Edith.  —  Epilogue.  125 

Edith.  The  dead  woman  in  Too  Late,  who  is  loved  by 
the  man  who  speaks  but  who  is  not  her  husband,  though  he 
has  hoped  that  some  day  she  might  be  his. 

Eglamor.  The  defeated  poet  in  Sordello,  which  see  in 
this  volume. 

Elvire.  The  wife  in  Fifine  at  the  Fair,  who  walks 
with  her  husband  through  Pornic  fair,  and  listens  to  his 
discussions  of  the  nature  of  the  love  between  husband  and 
wife,  caused  by  his  seeing  the  gypsy  woman,  Fifine,  dan- 
cing. 

Englishman  in  Italy,  The.  First  published  in  Dra- 
matic Romances  and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and 
Pomegranates,  1845.  The  title  was  England  in  Italy 
(Piano  di  Sorrento),  which  was  changed  to  the  present 
form  in  the  Poems  of  1849.  Romances,  1863 ;  Dramatic 
Romances,  1868. 

See  Mrs.  Orr,  who  gives  an  unusually  good  interpretation 
of  this  poem.  Mr.  Symons  says  it  is  "  the  most  entirely 
descriptive  poem  ever  written  by  Mr.  Browning." 

Epilogue.     Asolando,  1889. 

In  regard  to  the  third  verse  of  this  poem  the  Pall  Mall 
Gazette  of  February  1,  1890,  related  this  incident :  "  One 
evening,  just  before  his  death-illness,  the  poet  was  reading 
this  from  a  proof  to  his  daughter-in-law  and  sister.  He 
said  :  '  It  almost  looks  like  bragging  to  say  this,  and  as  if  I 
ought  to  cancel  it ;  but  it 's  the  simple  truth ;  and  as  it 's 
true,  it  shall  stand.'  All  Browning  was  there  —  'as  it 's  true 
it  shall  stand.'  His  faith  knew  no  doubting.  In  all  trouble, 
against  all  evil,  he  stood  firm.  And  it  is  this  buoyant  trust 
and  unfailing  hope  in  him,  and  his  wonderful  power  of  in- 
stilling it  into  others,  that  constitutes  his  main  hold  on  his 
admirers." 

Epilogue.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

The  first  speaker  interprets  the  Old  Testament  super- 
naturalism  ;  the  second  speaker  modern  rationalism,  while 
the  third  speaker,  the  poet  himself,  interprets  the  philo- 
sophic spiritualism  which  recognizes  at  once  the  immanence 
and  the  transcendence  of  God.  See  Mrs.  Orr,  Symons,  and 
Fotheringham. 

Epilogue.  Ferishtah's  Fancies.  Written  at  Venice, 
December  1st,  1884,  it  sums  up  the  thought  of  the  entire 


126         An  Epistle.  —  Eurydice  to  Orpheus. 

work.  It  refers  to  the  heroes  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
poems,  and  by  implication  to  all  the  world's  heroes.  It  is  a 
plea  for  heroic  faith  in  the  good  of  life,  and  in  the  love 
that  will  triumph  over  every  obstacle  in  the  realization  of 
immortality. 

Epistle,  An.  Containing  the  Strange  Medical 
Experience  of  Karshish,  the  Arab  Physician.  Men 
and  Women,  1855.  Begun  at  Rome  in  the  winter  of 
1853—1854,  and  completed  at  Florence. 

This  poem  is  based  on  the  account  of  the  raising  of 
Lazarus  contained  in  John  xi.  1-46. 

Snake-stone.  A  stone  that  would  charm  away  the  poison 
of  a  snake-bite.  — -  A  spider  that  weaves  no  web.  Probably 
of  the  saltigrade  species.  "  One  often  sees  this  species  and 
its  congeners  upon  the  ledges  of  rocks,  the  edges  of  tomb- 
stones, the  walls  of  buildings,  and  like  situations,  hunting 
their  prey,  which  they  secure  by  jumping  upon  them,  very 
much  as  a  cat  or  tiger  would  do."  The  expression,  "  take 
five  and  drop  them,  "  probably  refers  to  the  use  of  the 
spider  as  a  medicine  by  physicians.  The  spider  was  thought 
to  have  an  occult  healing  power  applied  either  internally  or 
externally.  Pliny  describes  its  use ;  and  until  recently  the 
spider  has  been  so  employed.  See  Poet-Lore,  1 :  518.  — 
Greek  fire.  Described  in  chapter  lii.  of  Gibbon's  Decline 
and  Fall.  "  It  would  seem,  "  he  says,  "  that  the  principal 
ingredient  was  the  naphtha,  or  liquid  bitumen,  a  light,  tena- 
cious, inflammable  oil,  which  springs  from  the  earth,  and 
catches  fire  as  soon  as  it  comes  in  contact  with  the  air."  — 
Slue-flowering  borage.  Mentioned  because  of  its  stimula- 
ting medical  properties. 

See  Corson's  Introduction.  Miss  H.  E.  Hersey,  in  her 
edition  of  Christmas  -  Eve  and  Easter  -  Day,  and  other 
Poems,  gives  brief  notes. 

Eulalia.  The  betrothed  wife  of  Luitolfo,  in  A  Soul's 
Tragedy. 

Eurydice  to  Orpheus.  A  Picture  by  Leighton. 
This  poem  was  first  printed  in  the  Royal  Academy  exhibi- 
tion catalogue  for  1864,  but  in  the  form  of  prose.  It  was 
printed  with  the  author's  name,  and  called  "  A  Fragment." 
The  first  reprinting  was  in  the  Selections  of  1865,  where  it 
bore  the  title,  Eurydice  to  Orpheus :  a  picture  by  Frederick 
Leighton,  A.  R.  A.  Poetical  Works,  1868. 


Euthukles.  —  The  Family.  127 

Frequent  mention  is  made  of  Orpheus  by  the  classical 
writers,  for  he  was  one  of  the  chief  legendary  characters  of 
Greece  and  Rome.  Plato  mentions  him  in  several  of  the 
dialogues,  Ovid  has  something  to  say  of  him  in  the  Meta- 
morphoses, and  he  is  spoken  of  by  Virgil  in  the  Georgics. 
He  was  described  as  a  native,  and  the  king,  of  Thrace  ;  he 
was  in  the  Argonautic  expedition,  and  rendered  it  important 
service ;  he  taught  the  Greeks  religion,  and  established  the 
mysteries ;  he  founded  civilization  and  social  institutions, 
invented  fables,  and  was  expert  in  medicine.  His  wife  was 
Eurydice,  a  nymph.  She  was  bitten  by  a  serpent  and  died. 
She  was  followed  into  the  under-world  by  Orpheus,  where 
his  lyre,  which  had  the  power  of  drawing  beasts,  trees,  and 
stones  about  him  to  listen  to  its  magic  tones,  was  made  use 
of  to  work  enchantment,  for  even  the  damned  ceased  from 
their  torments  while  he  played.  His  playing  even  wrought 
upon  Pluto  and  Proserpine,  until  they  promised  to  restore 
his  wife  to  him,  on  condition  that  he  should  not  look  back 
upon  her  until  they  had  passed  outside  the  infernal  regions,. 
Orpheus  did  look  back,  and  his  wife  was  at  once  caught 
away  from  his  sight.  On  his  return  to  earth  he  mourned 
for  Eurydice  until  the  Thracian  women  tore  him  in  pieces 
because  of  his  excessive  grief.  The  poet  represents  Eury- 
dice as  speaking  the  words  which  caused  Orpheus  to  look 
back  upon  her. 

Euthukles.  The  man  of  Phokis,  the  lover  of  Balaus- 
tion  in  Balaustiort s  Adventure,  and  her  husband  in  Aris- 
tophanes' Apology.  He  follows  her  to  Athens  after  she  had 
saved  her  companions  at  Syracuse  by  her  recital  of  Alkes- 
tis  ;  they  are  married  soon  after ;  he  describes  the  scenes 
following  the  presentation  of  the  Thesmophoriazusae,  and 
then  he  accompanies  her  to  her  home  at  Rhodes. 

Evelyn  Hope.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics,  1863 ; 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

See  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  for  comments. 

Face,  A.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

The  speaker  is  a  painter,  who  is  describing  the  beautiful 
face  of  the  person  to  whom  he  is  speaking. 

Family,  The.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

Shiraz  (Sheeraz).  A  beautiful  Persian  city,  the  capital 
of  the  province  of  Fars,  once  splendid  and  prosperous,  and 


128    Fears  and  Scruples.  —  Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

the  home  of  Saadi  and  Hafiz.  —  The  Hakim,  or  Hakeem. 
The  Mohammedan  Messiah. 

Fears  and  Scruples.  Pacchiarotto,  with  Other  Po- 
ems, 1876. 

In  answer  to  a  letter  of  inquiry,  addressed  to  him  hy  Mr. 
W.  G.  Kingsland,  Browning  wrote  the  following  in  regard 
to  the  meaning  of  this  poem  :  "  I  think  that  the  point  I 
wanted  to  illustrate  was  this  :  Where  there  is  a  genuine 
love  of  the  'letters'  and  'actions 'of  the  invisible  'friend,' 
—  however  these  may  be  disadvantaged  by  an  inability  to 
meet  the  objections  to  their  authenticity  or  historical  value 
urged  by  '  experts  '  who  assume  the  privilege  of  learning 
over  ignorance,  —  it  would  indeed  be  a  wrong  to  the  wis- 
dom and  goodness  of  the  '  friend '  if  he  were  supposed 
capable  of  overlooking  the  actual  '  love '  and  only  consider- 
ing the  '  ignorance '  which,  failing  to  in  any  degree  effect 
'  love,'  is  really  the  highest  evidence  that  '  love  '  exists.  So 
I  meant,  whether  the  result  be  clear  or  no." 

Ferishtah's  Fancies.  Published  by  Smith,  Elder  and 
Co.,  London,  1884.  Pages,  i.-viii.,  1-143.  Contents  :  Pro- 
logue :  I.  The  Eagle;  II.  The  Melon-seller;  III.  Shah 
Abbas;  IV.  The  Family;  V.  The  Sun;  VI.  Mihrab 
Shah;  VII.  A  Camel-Driver;  VIII.  Two  Camels;  IX. 
Cherries ;  X.  Plot-Culture ;  XI.  A  Pillar  at  Sebzevar ; 
XII.  A  Bean-Stripe,  also  Apple-Eating ;  Epilogue.  Dated 
at  the  end  of  the  epilogue :  Palazzo  Giustinian-Recanati, 
Venice  ;  December  1,  1883. 

This  collection  of  poems  was  written  under  the  influence 
of  three  Oriental  books  ;  the  Fables  of  Bidpai,  Firdusi's 
Shah-Nameh,  and  the  book  of  Job.  Mrs.  Orr  says  the 
idea  "  grew  out  of  a  fable  by  Pilpay  [Bidpai],  which  Mr. 
Browning  read  when  a  boy.  He  put  this  into  verse ;  and 
it  then  occurred  to  him  to  make  the  poem  the  beginning 
of  a  series,  in  which  the  Dervish,  who  is  first  introduced  as 
a  learner,  should  reappear  in  the  character  of  a  teacher. 
Ferishtah's  fancies  are  the  familiar  illustrations  by  which 
his  teachings  are  enforced."  This  manner  of  treating  the 
subject,  and  the  general  form  of  it,  gives  the  book  a  resem- 
blance to  Jami's  Saldmdn  and  Absdl. 

The  opening  poem  of  the  series,  that  called  The  Eagle, 
is  not  drawn  from  any  of  the  best  English  translations  of 


Feris'htah's  Fancies.  129 

the  Fables  of  Bidpai.  The  best  translations  are  North's 
Morall  Philosophie  of  Doni,  1579  ;  Eastwick's,  1 854  ;  and 
Kalilah  and  Dimnah  ;  or,  The  Fables  of  Bidpai,  Keith- 
Falconer,  1885.  In  none  of  these  does  the  fable  of  the 
Eagle  and  the  Dervish  appear ;  and  it  evidently  must  have 
been  drawn  from  some  of  the  many  .other  connected  fables. 
In  fact,  this  particular  fable  does  appear  in  a  children's 
book  called  The  Fables  of  Pilpay,  London,  1818.  In  this 
translation,  which  is  anonymous,  only  the  short  fables  are 
given  ;  but  the  introductory  narratives,  and  the  continuous 
story  which  binds  together  the  fables,  are  omitted.  This 
translation  is  wanting  in  every  kind  of  critical  skill,  was 
probably  taken  from  some  modern  European  language,  and 
carelessly  or  purposely  included  fables  not  belonging  to 
Bidpai. 

Mr.  Joseph  Jacobs,  who  has  recently  edited  the  earliest 
English  translation  of  the  Fables  of  Bidpai,  that  of  North, 
says  it  is  "  the  English  version  of  an  Italian  adaptation  of 
a  Spanish  translation  of  a  Latin  version  of  a  Hebrew  trans- 
lation of  an  Arabic  adaptation  of  the  Pehlevi  (Old  Persian) 
version  of  the  Indian  original."  This  gives  us  an  idea  of 
the  changes  through  which  this  work  has  passed,  and  of  its 
wide  -  spread  diffusion  through  all  languages.  Originally 
these  fables  were  birth  stories  of  Buddha,  and  their  equiva- 
lents are  found  in  the  Pantschatantra,  the  Hitopadesa,  the 
Katha-sacrit-sagara,  and  the  Mahabharata,  the  most  pop- 
ular of  the  Buddhist  books.  Between  400  B.  c.  and  200 
B.  c.  many  of  these  stories  were  put  together  in  a  frame 
formed  of  the  life  and  experience  of  Buddha.  They  were 
translated  into  Old  Persian  about  500  A.  D.,  and  took  sub- 
stantially the  form  they  now  have  as  the  Fables  of  Bidpai. 
These  are  beast-fables,  in  which  animals  act  as  men  ;  and 
they  originated  in  the  animism,  or  more  especially  the  me- 
tempsychosis, of  India. 

Jacobs  and  Keith-Falconer  give  tables  showing  the  re- 
markable diffusion  of  these  fables,  and  their  connection 
with  all  other  fables,  even  with  ^Esop  and  Uncle  Remus. 
They  also  give  most  fascinating  accounts  of  the  origin  and 
growth  of  the  Bidpai  literature. 

One  feature  of  the  Bidpai  fables  is  their  moral  character, 
which  has  commended  them  to  the  believers  in  all  the  great 


130  FerishtaKs  Fancies. 

religions.  Jacobs  says  this  book  "  enjoys  the  unique  dis- 
tinction of  having  appealed  to  all  the  great  religions  of  the 
world.  Originated  in  Buddhism,  it  was  adopted  by  Brah- 
manism,  passed  on  by  Zoroastrianism  to  Islam,  which  trans- 
mitted it  to  Christendom  by  the  mediation  of  Jews." 
"  Incredible  as  it  may  seem,  "  says  Jacobs  again,  ""  the 
Fables  were  translated  in  the  first  period  of  their  spon- 
taneous spread,  not  for  the  story-interest  of  them,  but  on 
account  of  their  moral  interest  —  their  '  moral  philosophy,' 
as  the  title  of  the  Italian  and  English  versions  testifies. 
They  were  regarded  as  homilies,  and  the  tales  were  only 
tolerated  as  so  much  jam  to  give  relish  to  the  morality.  It 
is  important  to  notice  this  aspect  of  the  book,  as  it  makes  it 
still  more  remarkable  that  it  should  have  been  accepted  as  a 
sort  of  secular  Bible,  if  we  may  so  term  it,  by  men  of  so 
many  different  religions.  There  must  have  been  something 
essentially  human  in  this  Buddhist  book  that  it  should  have 
been  welcomed  as  a  moral  encheiridion  by  Zoroastrians, 
Moslems,  Jews,  and  Christians.  Perhaps  we  may  account 
for  this  universal  acceptance  of  its  doctrines  because  they 
seemed  to  come  from  the  mouths  of  those  who  could  not  be 
suspected  of  heresy  — from  our  dumb  brethren,  the  beasts." 

Had  Browning  continued  this  series  of  poems  as  he  began 
it,  the  resemblance  to  the  Fables  of  Bldpai  in  outward  form 
would  have  been  very  close.  However,  after  the  first  poem, 
he  dropped  the  element  of  fable  and  made  his  poems  a 
series  of  philosophical  discussions  ;  and  yet  enough  of  the 
story  element  remains  to  bring  Bidpai  distinctly  to  mind. 
Ferishtah  very  much  resembles  Bidpai  the  philosopher,  as 
he  appears  in  the  Fables.  His  character  as  a  sage,  and  his 
manner  of  teaching,  are  quite  similar. 

Another  feature  of  the  book  is  that  obtained  from  Fir- 
dusi's  great  epic  poem  of  Persia,  the  Shah  Nameh.  The 
name  Ferishtah  is  evidently  itself  Persian,  and  though  it 
does  not  appear  in  the  Shah  Nameh,  yet  Ferishtah  is  the 
name  of  a  Persian  historian  of  the  eighteenth  century.  No 
part  of  the  machinery  of  Ferishtah 's  Fancies  is  taken  from 
Firdusi,  nor  has  Browning  made  use  of  any  of  the  legends 
of  the  Persian  epic.  Yet  it  has  frequent  reference  to  the 
'fabulous  heroes,  characters,  and  incidents  in  Firdusi. 

Firdusi.  whose  name  was  Abu'l  Casim  Mansur,  was  born 


Ferishtati 's  fancies.  131 

about  941  A.  D.  and  died  in  1020.  He  brought  together  the 
legends  of  ancient  Persia,  and  wrote  a  great  epic  poem, 
called  the  Shah  Nameh  or  Book  of  Kings.  This  poem 
was  edited  by  Jules  de  Mohl,  and  published  by  the  French 
government ;  and  the  Persian  was  accompanied  by  a  French 
translation.  Madam  Mohl  edited  a  popular  edition  in 
1876-77.  No  complete  translation  has  ever  been  made  into 
English.  That  of  James  Atkinson,  now  published  in  the 
series  of  Chandos  Classics,  is  a  translation  of  a  Persian 
abridgment,  and  is  in  mixed  prose  and  verse.  Miss  Helen 
Zimmern's  Heroic  Tales  gives  in  an  abbreviated  form  from 
the  French  some  of  the  most  interesting  episodes.  One  of 
the  most  beautiful  and  pathetic  of  the  episodes,  the  story  of 
Rustem  and  Sohrab,  was  made  the  subject  of  a  poem  by 
Matthew  Arnold. 

Browning  undoubtedly  had  the  Shah  Nameh  in  mind 
when  he  wrote  Ferishtah's  Fancies,  for  it  shows  a  close  in- 
timacy with  that  poem.  As  Ferishtah  is  a  Persian  dervish, 
it  is  quite  in  keeping  with  his  character  that  he  should  refer 
frequently  to  this  great  .epic  poem,  which  is  known  to  every 
school-boy  and  peasant  in  Persia.  Its  legendary  characters 
are  known  in  that  country  as  those  of  Homer  are  among  us, 
and  it  is  even  more  natural  to  refer  to  them,  because  of  the 
associations  with  the  national  history  and  ideas.  For  descrip- 
tive and  analytical  studies  of  the  Shah  Nameh,  see  Miss 
Zimmern's  introduction  to  her  Heroic  Tales,  and  Samuel 
Johnson's  Oriental  Religions  :  Persia,. 

Another  element  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies  is  that  taken 
from  the  book  of  Job,  though  it  does  not  equal  that  from 
the  Fables  of  Bidpai  or  the  Shah  Nameh.  Browning  had 
evidently  given  some  attention  to  the  critical  discussion  of 
the  origin  of  the  book  of  Job,  for  he  suggests  that  it  is  a 
Persian  book.  Scholars  have  often  been  of  the  opinion 
that  Job  is  not  distinctly  Hebrew,  but  Arabic  or  Syriac  in 
origin  and  in  some  of  the  characteristics  of  its  teachings. 
Some  of  the  teachings  indicate  that  the  author  may  have 
come  in  contact  with  the  religion  of  Zoroaster,  for  while  Job 
is  a  stern  monotheist,  he  believes  that  God  is  opposed  by  an 
intriguing  Adversary. 

In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  written  soon  after  this  series  of 
poems  was  published,  Browning  said  :  "  I  hope  and  believe 


132  Festus.  —  Fifine  at  the  Fair. 

that  one  or  two  careful  readings  of  the  Poem  will  make  its 
sense  clear  enough.  Above  all,  pray  allow  for  the  Poet's 
inventiveness  in  any  case,  and  do  not  suppose  there  is  more 
than  a  thin  disguise  of  a  few  Persian  names  and  allusions. 
There  was  no  such  person  as  Ferishtah  —  the  stories  are 
all  inventions.  .  .  .  The  Hebrew  quotations  are  put  in  for 
a  purpose,  as  a  direct  acknowledgment  that  certain  doctrines 
may  be  found  in  the  Old  Book,  which  the  Concoctors  of 
Novel  Schemes  of  Morality  put  forth  as  discoveries  of  their 
own."  The  mottoes  indicate  the  humorous  and  fictitiously 
Oriental  manner  of  the  poem. 

See  The  Athenceum,  Dec.  6,  1884  ;  Saturday  Review, 
58  :  727  ;  The  Spectator,  Dec.  6,  1884 ;  The  Academy, 
Dec.  13,  1884  ;  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  2  :  245*. 

Festus.  The  devoted  friend  of  Paracelsus,  in  the  poem 
of  that  name.  He  has  faith  in  Paracelsus  and  admires  him 
to  the  end.  Michal  is  his  wife,  a  true  and  faithful  woman, 
loving  and  wisely  advising  the  seeker  for  knowledge. 

File,  trump,  drum,  sound !  The  first  words  of  the 
song  with  which  Parleyings  with  Certain  People  of  Note 
in  Their  Day  ends.  It  was  written  for  the  music  by 
Charles  Avison,  which  accompanies  it,  p.  364,  vol.  vi.  of 
Riverside  edition  of  Works. 

Fifine.  The  gypsy  woman  in  Fifine  at  the  Fair,  whose 
physical  beauty  and  gifts  as  a  dancer  led  to  the  discussion 
between  husband  and  wife  which  forms  the  poem. 

Fifine  at  the  Fair.  Published  in  1872,  by  Smith, 
Elder  and  Co.,  London.  Pages,  i.-xii.,  1-171.  The  pages 
from  i.  to  xii.  consisted  of  a  half-title,  title,  quotation  from 
Moliere's  Don  Juan,  act  i.  scene  3,  a  translation  of  it  into 
verse  by  Browning,  and  a  prologue,  entitled  Amphibian. 
The  poem  closed  with  an  epilogue,  The  Householder. 

The  quotation  from  Moliere's  comedy  of  Don  Juan,  ou 
Le  Festin  de  Pierre  or  Feast  with  the  Statue,  is  sugges- 
tive as  to  the  purpose  of  the  poem.  See  Henri  van  Laun's 
translation  of  Moliere's  Dramatic  Works,  and  especially  the 
introductory  notice  to  this  particular  comedy.  Don  Juan 
has  been  a  favorite  character  with  the  dramatists,  and  it 
originated  in  a  Spanish  legend  of  a  Don  Juan  who  ran 
away  with  the  daughter  of  a  venerable  commander,  whom 
he  killed  in  a  duel.  A  splendid  tomb  and  statue  were  built 


Fifine  at  the  Fair.  133 

to  the  commander,  which  Don  Jaan  insulted,  and  for  this 
impiety  was  hurled  to  the  infernal  regions  by  some  supernat- 
ural power.  Several  Spanish,  Itah'an,  French,  and  English 
dramatists  have  made  use  of  this  story,  sometimes  origi- 
nally and  sometimes  copying  from  each  other. 

Van  Laun's  account  of  Moliere's  Don  Juan  will  give 
some  hints  for  the  clearer  understanding  of  Browning's 
poem,  though  the  latter  had  no  purpose  of  drawing  from 
Moliere  or  depicting  another  Don  Juan.  "  This  play,"  says 
Van  Laun,  "  depicts  the  hero  as  a  man  who,  rich,  noble, 
powerful,  and  bold,  respects  neither  heaven  nor  earth,  and 
knows  no  bounds  to  the  gratification  of  his  desires  or  his 
passions.  He  has  excellent  manners,  but  abominable  prin- 
ciples ;  he  is  a  whited  sepulcre,  and  abuses  the  privileges  of 
nobility  without  acknowledging  its  obligations  or  its  duties. 
Moliere  sketches  no  longer  the  nobleman  as  ridiculous  [as 
had  been  done  by  some  who  had  previously  made  use  of 
Don  Juan],  but  makes  him  terrible,  and  shows  that  his  ex- 
aggerated hatred  of  cant  leads  to  the  commission  of  the 
greatest  immoralities,  and  to  atheism.  After  having  se- 
duced and  abandoned  many  fair  maids ;  after  having  in- 
sulted his  father,  and  openly  flaunted  the  most  skeptical 
doctrines,  Don  Juan  turns  hypocrite ;  for  hypocrisy  is  the 
climax  of  all  vices.  But  although  the  hero  of  the  play  is 
young,  elegant,  and  profligate,  Moliere  makes  us  feel  all 
the  while  that  underneath  the  charming  exterior  lurks 
something  venomous.  No  doubt  he  is  witty,  but  too  sar- 
castic to  be  pleasant.  He  is  sensual,  but  less  than  is  gener- 
ally thought.  He  is  not  so  much  a  libertine,  as  a  man  who 
loves  to  set  all  rules  of  decency,  order,  and  morality  at  de- 
fiance. What  attracts  him  is  something  eccentric,  violent, 
and  scandalous.  He  likes  to  seduce  a  nun,  or  an  innocent 
country  girl,  who  is  already  engaged ;  and  this  not  through 
mere  lust,  but  in  order  to  prove  that  he  can  trample  upon 
all  human  laws ;  just  as  he  invites  to  supper  the  statue  of  a 
man  whom  he  has  killed,  and  plays  the  hypocrite  in  order 
to  show  his  scorn  for  all  divine  laws.  .  .  .  But  Moliere  has 
not  made  the  hero  coarse  or  ribald ;  his  language  is  always 
well  chosen;  and  although  his  morality  may  be  offensive, 
his  manners  are  never  so.  The  style  of  his  speech  is  gen- 
erally masterly,  often  eloquent,  and  not  seldom  character- 
istic of  his  sneering,  insolent,  cruel,  hypocritical  feelings." 


134  Fifine  at  the  Fair. 

In  Moliere's  comedy  Don  Juan  has  married  Elvira,  the 
daughter  of  a  nobleman,  and  at  the  end  of  a  month  has  de- 
serted her;  and  he  is  planning  the  seduction  of  a  young 
bride.  Suddenly  Elvira  comes  upon  the  scene,  and  in  the 
conversation  which  follows,  from  which  Browning  quotes, 
Don  Juan  makes  it  known  to  his  wife  that  he  has  deserted 
her.  In  that  part  of  the  conversation  quoted,  Don  Juan 
exhibits  doubt  as  to  the  course  to  pursue  towards  Elvira, 
and  hesitates  to  declare  to  her  the  truth.  Her  admonition 
causes  him  to  make  known  his  abandonment  of  her ;  but 
he  gives  a  wholly  false  reason  for  his  act. 

It  is  probable  that  Browning  found  suggestions  for  this 
poem  in  Byron's  Don  Juan,  as  well  as  in  his  Childe  Har- 
old, to  this  extent,  at  least,  that,  whereas  Moliere  and  By- 
ron had  drawn  Don  Juan  as  essentially  bad,  it  seemed  to 
him  desirable  to  set  forth  one  of  another  kind.  In  section 
sixty-seven  he  quotes  from  the  fourth  canto  of  Byron's 
Childe  Harold. 

Pornic  is  a  small  maritime  town  of  France,  situated  di- 
rectly on  the  ocean,  at  the  bay  of  Bourgneuf,  in  the  De- 
partment of  the  Lower  Loire  in  Brittany  ;  and  is  twenty- 
seven  miles  southwest  of  Nantes.  Its  baths  and  mineral 
springs  are  well  known,  and  in  the  season  are  much  fre- 
quented. It  has  a  large  traffic  in  building  ships  and  fitting 
them  out  for  cod-fishing.  Public  fairs  are  held  every  fif- 
teenth of  June,  second  of  September,  and  fifteenth  of  De- 
cember. The  city  itself  is  built  on  the  side  of  a  hill  in  the 
shape  of  an  amphitheatre,  and  is  very  quaint  and  irregular. 

Pornic  formerly  was  burned  and  razed  to  the  ground  by 
the  Vendean  army  of  Charette.  It  is  now  divided  into 
two  parts  :  npper  and  lower  Pornic,  and  the  Sands.  These 
two  parts  have  communication  with  each  other  by  means  of 
vast  staircases  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock.  The  port  itself 
is  bounded  by  a  large  quay,  from  which  juts  out  a  mole 
which  has  recently  been  decorated  with  a  statue  of  Admiral 
Leray.  The  old  castle,  built  in  the  thirteenth  century  and 
formerly  in  ruins,  has  lately  been  completely  restored. 
Among  many  other  curiosities  and  features  of  interest  to 
be  seen  in  the  neighborhood  may  be  mentioned  cromlechs 
and  various  Celtic  monuments.  It  has  also  curious  natural 
grottoes,  hollowed  out  by  the  dashing  of  the  waves,  which  are 


Fifine  at  the  Fair.  135 

known  by  the  name  of  "  The  Chimneys,"  because  when  the 
sea  is  rough,  the  water  spouts  up  with  great  force  through 
a  hole  in  the  top,  resembling  the  smoke  from  a  chimney. 

Matilda  Betham-Edwards,  in  her  A  Year  in  Western 
France,  gives  the  following  description  of  Pornic :  "  A  de- 
licious little  seaside  resort,  now  crowded  and  fashionable, 
but  forty  years  ago  a  handful  of  fishermen's  huts  only,  is 
Pornic  on  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  Half  Italian,  half  Algerian 
in  aspect,  with  its  intense  blue  sea,  emerald  hills,  and  tiny 
white  town  built  terrace-wise  above  the  small  enclosed  port, 
Pornic  is  a  place  in  which  even  the  tropical  heats  of  French 
summers  are  bearable.  Here  are  shady  walks  close  to  the 
sea,  little  groves  of  silvery  poplar  and  acacia,  and  long 
winding  walks  along  the  rocks.  I  recollect  nothing  on  a 
small  scale  prettier  or  more  gracious  than  this  little  port  of 
Pornic ;  and  one  July  evening  during  my  stay,  with  a  sil- 
very crescent  moon,  a  sky  of  mingled  amber,  pearl,  rose, 
and  deep  purple,  as  the  fairy-like  little  fishing-boats  glided 
out  one  by  one  into  the  open  sea,  the  scene  was  enchanting. 
Beyond  Poruic  eastward  are  smooth  stretches  of  golden 
corn,  reaching  down  to  the  rocky  shore ;  and  when  you 
have  got  to  the  edge  of  the  cliffs,  you  can  walk  for  miles 
between  purslain  hedges,  having  green  hills  on  one  side  and 
on  the  other  shelving  brown  rocks  and  the  lake-like,  capti- 
vating Southern  sea. 

"The  glare  of  the  July  sun  is  terrible,  in  spite  of  the 
green  trees  and  shadow-giving  rocks  here ;  but  for  all  that 
Pornic  is  a  delicious,  friendly  little  place,  with  beautiful 
bits  of  luxuriant  country  close  to  the  sea,  and  an  intensity 
of  color  in  the  purple  sea  and  emerald  verdure  quite  Italian. 

"  Sea-bathing  at  Pornic  is  a  sociable  and  amusing  pas- 
time. Friends,  neighbors,  and  young  people  given  to  flirta- 
tion put  on  their  coquettish  bathing-dresses,  and  play  about 
in  the  water  in  company.  In  spite  of  the  intense  heat,  Por- 
nic is  as  crowded  as  it  can  be  during  the  season,  though 
there  seems  to  be  no  other  attraction  but  the  aforesaid  con- 
stitutional sea-walks.  In  September  and  in  October  it  must 
be  delightful,  though  I  believe  few  visit  it  then.  An  enter- 
prising and  philanthropic  Frenchwoman,  the  popular  author 
of  some  admirable  works  of  science,  has  lately  founded  a 
popular  library  in  Pornic  —  the  first  effort  of  the  kind 


136  Fifine  at  the  Fair. 

ever  heard  of  in  these  picturesque  but  outlandish  and  be- 
hindhand parts.  The  Pornic  people  have  an  amiable,  indo- 
lent look,  and  would,  I  should  say,  take  to  innovations  un- 
kindly." 

It  seems  to  have  been  only  a  second  thought  which  caused 
Browning  to  draw  from  Don  Juan  such  suggestion  as  it  gave 
him ;  and  the  primary  motive  came  from  his  life  at  Pornic. 
According  to  Mrs.  Orr,  "  Mr.  Browning  was,  with  his  fam- 
ily, at  Pornic  many  years  ago,  and  there  saw  the  gypsy 
who  is  the  original  of  Fifine.  His  fancy  was  evidently  sent 
roaming  by  her  audacity,  her  strength,  the  contrast  which 
she  presented  to  the  more  spiritual  types  of  womanhood ; 
and  this  contrast  eventually  found  expression  in  a  poetic 
theory  of  life,  in  which  these  opposite  types  and  their  cor- 
responding modes  of  attraction  became  the  necessary  com- 
plement of  each  other.  As  he  laid  down  the  theory  Mr. 
Browning  would  be  speaking  in  his  own  person.  But  he 
would  turn  into  some  one  else  in  the  act  of  working  it  out, 
for  it  insensibly  carried  with  it  a  plea  for  yielding  to  those 
opposite  attractions,  not  only  successively,  but  at  the  same 
time,  and  a  modified  Don  Juan  would  grow  up  under  his 
pen,  thinking  in  some  degree  his  thoughts,  using  in  some 
degree  his  language,  and  only  standing  out  as  a  distinctive 
character  at  the  end  of  the  poem." 

The  gypsy  woman  evidently  suggested  to  the  poet  a 
study  of  different  types  of  womanhood,  and  their  influence 
on  man  for  good  or  evil.  Then  came  the  thought  of  a  man 
like  Don  Juan,  who  should  seek  whatever  help  woman  could 
give,  not  in  the  sensual  mariner  of  Don  Juan,  but  in  one  re- 
fined and  intellectual.  In  his  study  of  the  poem,  Mr.  J.  T. 
Nettleship  has  given  an  outline  of  it,  which  is  helpful  as  to 
its  meaning  and  the  successive  experiences  it  interprets. 

In  paragraphs  one  to  fourteen  the  speaker  with  his  wife 
is  walking  through  a  fair  at  Pornic  ;  and  the  strolling  actors 
who  exhibit  before  them  suggest  to  him  discourse  on  the 
charms  and  advantages  of  a  Bohemian  life. 

Paragraphs  fifteen  to  thirty  -  four  discuss  the  different 
types  of  womanhood,  beginning  with  Fifine,  who  suddenly 
appears  before  the  speaker  in  all  her  physical  perfection. 
He  also  shows  how  the  spiritual  beauty  of  Elvire  is  superior 
to  the  physical  beauty  of  Fifine,  and  why  it  has  a  greater 
influence  upon  him. 


Fifine  at  the  Fair.  137 

Paragraphs  thirty-five  to  forty-two  indicate  why  he  pre- 
fers his  own  wife  to  any  other  woman,  even  though  others 
may  for  the  moment  attract  and  fascinate  him.  This  de- 
votion to  the  wife  he  compares  to  his  possession  of  a  great 
picture  of  Raphael,  which  he  cares  for  with  zeal  even  though 
he  looks  at  a  picture-book  by  Dore". 

In  paragraphs  forty-three  to  fifty-three  he  shows  why 
men  and  women  have  need  of  each  other,  to  supplement 
unloveliness  by  love.  The  poet  here  gives  his  philosophy 
of  the  married  union  of  man  and  woman,  that  the  nature  of 
each  may  be  rounded  and  completed  in  the  other. 

In  paragraphs  fifty-four  to  fifty-nine  the  same  thought  is 
continued,  but  carried  up  to  a  study  of  the  philosophy  of 
life.  The  development  of  the  soul  by  the  means  of  love  is 
the  theme.  Here  he  works  out  an  artistic  illustration,  that 
of  the  creation  of  a  beautiful  statue,  which  exhibits  life  in 
its  higher  capacities.  The  legend  of  Eidothe'e,  the  daughter 
of  Proteus,  as  told  in  the  fourth  book  of  the  Odyssey,  is 
made  use  of  to  show  how  the  soul  may  be  brought  out  in  the 
artistic  attempt  to  unfold  it  and  make  it  a  perfect  thing. 

In  paragraphs  sixty  to  sixty-three  he  indicates  what  Fifine 
may  be  to  him  in  this  search  for  the  purification  and  spir- 
itual re-creation  of  the  soul. 

Paragraphs  sixty-four  to  sixty-nine  show  how  the  sensual 
or  the  false  may  become  a  help  in  the  soul's  search  for 
higher  gain.  This  he  illustrates  by  the  swimmer,  who  is 
upborne  by  whatever  he  touches  in  the  sea. 

In  paragraphs  seventy  to  eighty-eight  he  brings  out  again 
his  oft-repeated  idea  of  the  influence  of  woman  in  helping 
man  to  secure  his  soul's  growth,  that  she  is  essential  to  this 
higher  spiritual  attainment.  He  also  indicates  that  Fifine 
in  this  way  helps  him,  simply  because  she  is  a  type  to  him 
of  the  false  and  of  the  vain  shows  of  the  world. 

In  paragraphs  eighty-nine  to  one  hundred  and  twenty-six 
he  draws  out  his  philosophy  of  life,  his  playing  Schumann's 
Carnival  suggesting  a  starting  point,  and  Fifine  affording 
illustration.  The  music  gives  him  a  dream  of  the  world  as 
a  masque  ;  and  under  this  form  he  studies  all  its  institutions 
to  see  what  they  will  afford  for  the  development  of  the  soul. 

In  paragraph  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  the  speaker 
trudges  home  with  Elvire,  and  discusses  through  the  next 


138  Fifine  at  the  Fair. 

four  paragraphs  what  sense  and  falsehood  do  for  man,  in 
view  of  death  as  the  "  final  "  of  earth's  opportunities. 

In  the  last  paragraph  he  slips  away  ;  but  the  epilogue 
continues  the  discussion  with  the  declaration  that  "  Love  is 
all,  and  Death  is  naught." 

Mr.  Nettleship  outlines  the  purpose  and  meaning  of  the 
poem  in  these  words  :  "  The  poem  is  put  into  the  form  of 
a  monologue,  spoken  by  a  man  ;  throughout  he  introduces 
observations  and  objections  made  by  his  wife,  each  of  which 
he  discusses  and  answers.  The  whole  poem  is  dramatic  : 
the  speaker  is  any  man  you  like,  of  high  attainments,  lofty 
aspirations,  strong  emotions,  and  capricious  will.  Being 
such  a  man,  he  deals  partly  with  truth,  somewhat  with 
sophism.  His  reasoning  is  good  so  far  as  his  intellect  and 
aspiration  direct  it ;  but  the  last  section  of  the  poem  proves 
the  truth  of  his  own  philosophy  (embodied  in  the  swimmer 
symbol),  namely,  that  a  man  reaching  after  too  high  an 
ideal  is  likely  to  fall  the  lower,  the  higher  he  has  striven  to 
reach.  The  clearest  way  of  showing  where  he  uses  truth, 
sophism,  or  a  mixture  of  both  is  to  say  that  wherever  he 
speaks  of  Fifine  (whether  as  type  or  not)  in  relation  to  him- 
self and  his  own  desire  for  truth,  or  right  living  with  his 
wife,  he  is  sophistical ;  wherever  he  speaks  directly  of  his 
wife's  value  to  him  (except  in  paragraphs  thirty-eight  and 
thirty-nine)  he  speaks  truth  with  an  alloy  of  sophism  ;  and 
wherever  he  speaks  impersonally  he  speaks  the  truth.  The 
man  and  his  wife  are  cultivated  people  of  independent 
means  living  at  Pornic  in  Brittany.  It  is  Pornic  fair,  and 
the  fair  has  tempted  thither  a  company  of  strolling  actors, 
rope-dancers,  and  athletes.  The  husband  takes  the  beauty 
of  this  strolling  company,  Fifine,  as  a  type,  first,  of  woman- 
hood, to  point  the  moral  of  man's  relations  with  women ; 
second,  as  a  symbol  of  any  influence  good  or  bad  which  a 
wise  man  is  bound  to  make  use  of  for  his  soul's  development 
during  its  life  in  this  world  only.  Using  her  for  a  text,  he 
moralizes  on  certain  facts  and  ideas  connected  with  the  life 
of  any  individual  man,  as  a  gregarious  and  progressive  be- 
ing, among  collective  men  and  women." 

Prof.  C.  C.  Everett,  in  the  Old  and  New,  for  November, 
1872,  says:  "The  Don  Juan  who  could  justify  his  course 
must  be  of  a  philosophic  turn ;  he  must  be  able  to  play  with 


Filippo  Baldinucci.  139 

the  outsides  of  things.  Then,  too,  the  reader  must  not  ex- 
pect a  clear,  consistent,  and  satisfactory  argument.  The 
poet-philosopher  who  would  make  the  worse  appear  the  bet- 
ter reason  must  deal  more  or  less  in  sophistries.  He  must 
put  forth  pretensions  in  one  place  that  he  fails  to  satisfy  in 
another.  He  must  sometimes  wear  a  mask  ;  but  this  he 
cannot  wear  always.  Finally,  the  reader  must  remember 
that  this  is  poetry,  and  not  prose.  He  must  not  expect  an 
argument  that  will  follow  its  heads  like  a  sermon." 

An  analysis  and  summary  of  the  poem  by  Rev.  J.  Sharpe 
is  given  in  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  1 :  255. 

In  her  "  picture  of  constancy, "  Miss  Burt,  in  Brown- 
ing's Women,  gives  a  study  of  Elvire  and  Fifine.  An 
extended  and  keen  analysis  of  the  poem,  entering  fully  into 
its  details,  and  also  into  its  philosophy,  is  that  by  Mr.  J.  T. 
Nettleship,  published  in  the  second  number,  1 :  199  and 
1 : 17*,  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers  /  reprinted  in 
Essays  and  Thoughts.  Also  Old  and  New,  C.  C.  Everett, 
6  :  609 ;  Canadian  Monthly,  Goldwin  Smith,  2  :  285  ; 
Temple  Bar,  37  :  315  ;  The  Browning  Society's  Papers, 
2  :  240*;  The  Academy,  Nov.  27,  1875. 

Filippo  Baldinucci  on  the  Privilege  of  Burial. 
A  Reminiscence  of  A.  D.  1676.  Pacchiarotto,  with 
Other  Poems,  1876. 

Filippo  Baldinucci,  a  distinguished  Italian  writer  on  art, 
was  born  in  Florence  in  1624,  and  died  in  1696.  His  chief 
work  is  his  Notizie  dei  Professori  del  Disegno,  or  Notices  of 
Painters,  from  Cimabue,  1620  -  1670.  This  history  of  art 
is  a  series  of  biographical  sketches  in  six  volumes,  but  it  is 
intensely  Florentine  in  its  purpose  and  method.  The  com- 
plete works  of  Baldinucci  were  published  at  Milan  in  four- 
teen volumes,  1808  -  1812.  See  further  account  of  Baldi- 
nucci in  this  volume  under  Pacchiarotto. 

The  incident  related  in  the  poem  is  contained  in  Baldi- 
nucci's  sketch  of  Lodovico  Buti,  as  follows  : 

"  He  was  given  an  order  to  make  a  figure  of  Christ  cru- 
cified, which  is  now  seen  in  one  of  the  corners  on  the  side 
of  the  wall  just  outside  the  gate  at  San  Friano.  It  does 
not  seem  out  of  place  to  relate  here  an  interesting  anecdote 
of  a  little  episode  which  took  place  concerning  this  picture, 
and  which  was  told  to  me  in  my  early  youth  by  an  old  and 
venerable  man,  who  lived  at  that  time. 


140  Filippo  Baldinucci. 

"  To  begin,  we  will  say  that  on  the  left  of  the  above- 
named  gate,  stretching  out  towards  Monticelli,  is  a  little 
cemetery,  the  lateral  terminations  of  which  on  the  side  of 
the  street  are  enclosed  by  mulberry  trees  and  lead  in  the 
direction  of  a  little  property  at  the  foot  of  Monte  Oliveto, 
called  Verzaia.  This  little  cemetery,  in  the  last  century, 
and  even  in  the  time  of  which  we  write,  was  used  for  a 
burying  ground  for  the  Jews.  In  the  upper  part,  it  is 
bounded  by  a  very  narrow  road,  which,  diverging  from  the 
highway,  winds  around  a  hill,  contiguous  to  which  is  the 
side  of  the  aforesaid  angle,  where  was  already  built  a  hand- 
some chapel,  the  same  one  in  which  the  above-mentioned 
Crucifixion  is  now  seen.  In  this  chapel  the  patron  of  the 
place  had  already  had  painted  a  handsome  picture  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  with  the  end  in  view,  that  it  could  be  seen  the 
first  thing  by  anyone  entering  the  city  ;  and  thus,  this  figure 
accidentally  became  the  principal  feature  of  this  little  ceme- 
tery. The  Jews  were  much  annoyed  to  see  our  sacred 
image  in  that  place,  and  they  held  a  meeting,  in  order  to 
decide  upon  some  means  of  having  it  removed  at  any  cost. 
To  this  end  they  had  an  interview  with  the  patron  of  the 
place,  and  expressed  to  him  their  wishes,  promising  to  make 
him  a  present  of  one  hundred  ducats,  whenever  he  would 
consent  to  have  this  picture  transferred  to  the  other  side, 
which  overlooked  the  public  street.  The  bargain  was  made 
and  the  money  counted  out.  The  place  was  hung  with  cur- 
tains, and  the  new  picture  painted.  As  soon  as  it  was  dis- 
covered the  discontent  of  the  Jews  was  revived  ;  for  whilst 
they  thought  the  former  ornament  was  being  taken  away 
the  work  was  still  going  on,  and  the  figure  of  the  Virgin 
was  transferred  to  the  other  side,  but  in  its  place  was  intro- 
duced a  handsome  Crucifixion,  which  is  the  one  we  have 
mentioned. 

"  Some  of  the  Jews  perceiving  all  at  once  in  the  dis- 
tance these  two  pictures,  when  they  returned  home  and  re- 
lated the  fact  to  their  companions,  they  rose  in  a  body,  and 
such  confusion  and  excitement  ensued  among  these  vicious 
people,  that  it  really  appeared  as  if  the  Jewish  quarter 
would  be  destroyed.  At  last  a  meeting  of  the  old  men 
took  place,  and  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  incensed  of  the 
rabbis  was  sent  to  call  the  person,  who  was  the  author  of 


Fire  is  the  Flint.  —  Flight  of  the  Duchess.    141 

this  joke,  to  account.  The  rabbi  having  delivered  his  mes- 
sage and  expressed  his  rage,  and  indeed  having  been  allowed 
every  privilege  of  speech,  the  deputy  arose,  and  with  the 
greatest  calmness  he  spoke  to  them  this :  '  Tell  me,  good 
people,  why  do  you  find  fault  with  my  patron  ?  Your 
bargain  has  been  fulfilled  to  the  letter,  and  what  else  do 
you  want  ?  It  is  my  opinion  that  you  are  very  presumptu- 
ous, that  with  your  sordid  money  you  wished  to  buy  my 
patron's  liberty.' 

"  Then  the  rabbis  dispersed,  discontentedly,  but  tacitly 
acknowledging  they  were  wrong.  They  said  no  more  about 
it,  and  no  longer  tried  with  their  ill-gotten  riches  to  control 
the  piety  of  good  Christians." 

Fire  is  the  Flint.  The  first  words  of  the  fifth  lyric  in 
Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

Flight  of  the  Duchess,  The.  This  poem  was  first 
printed  in  Hood's  Magazine  for  April,  1845.  See  Nation- 
ality in  Drinks  in  this  volume  for  reasons  for  this  publica- 
tion. The  first  nine  sections  only  were  thus  printed  ;  the 
whole  poem  first  appeared  in  Dramatic  Romances  and 
Lyrics,  number  seven  of  Sells  and  Pomegranates,  1845. 
Poems,  1849 ;  Romances,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Romances, 
1868. 

This  poem  took  its  rise  from  a  line  —  "  Following  the 
Queen  of  the  Gypsies,  O  !  "  the  burden  of  a  song  which  the 
poet,  when  a  boy,  heard  a  woman  singing  on  a  Guy  Fawkes' 
Day.  As  Browning  was  writing  it,  he  was  interrupted  by 
the  arrival  of  a  friend  on  some  important  business,  which 
drove  all  thoughts  of  the  Duchess,  and  the  scheme  of  her 
story,  out  of  the  poet's  head.  But  some  months  after  the 
publication  of  the  first  part,  when  he  was  staying  at  Bettis- 
field  Park,  in  Shropshire,  a  guest,  speaking  of  early  winter, 
said,  "  The  deer  had  already  to  break  the  ice  in  the  pond." 
On  this  a  fancy  struck  the  poet,  and,  on  returning  home, 
he  worked  it  up  into  the  conclusion  of  the  poem  as  it  now 
stands. 

In  stanza  three  merlin  is  a  species  of  hawk  ;  falcon-lan- 
ner  is  a  long-tailed  species  of  hawk.  —  In  stanza  six  urochs 
is  wild  bull,  and  buffle  is  buffalo.  —  In  stanza  ten  St.  Hubert 
is  the  patron  saint  of  huntsmen ;  lacquer  is  yellowish  varnish  ; 
venerers,  prickers,  and  verderers  are  huntsmen,  light-horse- 


142       The,  Flower  s  Name.  —  A  Forgiveness. 

men,  and  guardians  of  venison.  —  In  section  eleven  wind  a 
mart  is  to  announce  that  the  deer  is  taken  ;  sealed  her  eyes 
means  to  close  them,  a  term  used  in  falconry ;  fifty-part 
canon  is  explained  by  Browning  himself  in  a  note  published 
by  Corson  :  "A  canon,  in  music,  is  a  piece  wherein  the 
subject  is  repeated,  in  various  keys :  and  being  strictly 
obeyed  in  the  repetition  becomes  the  '  canon  '  —  the  impera- 
tive law  —  to  what  follows.  Fifty  of  such  parts  would  be 
indeed  a  notable  peal :  to  manage  three  is  enough  of  an 
achievement  for  a  good  musician."  —  In  section  thirteen 
helicat  is  hell-cat  or  witch ;  imps  the  wing  of  the  hawk 
means  to  insert  new  feathers  into  the  wing  in  place  of  those 
which  are  broken.  —  In  section  fourteen  tomans  are  Persian 
coins.  —  In  section  seventeen  morion  is  a  helmet ;  Orson 
the  wood-knight  is  described  in  the  fifteenth  century  Ro- 
mance of  Valentine  and  Orson.  Corson  says  that  CJrson 
was  the  twin  brother  of  Valentine  and  son  of  Bellisant. 
The  brothers  were  born  in  a  wood  near  Orleans,  and  Orson 
was  carried  off  by  a  bear  (French  ourson,  a  small  bear), 
which  suckled  him  with  her  cubs.  When  he  grew  up,  he 
became  the  terror  of  France,  and  was  called  The  Wild 
Man  of  the  Forest.  Ultimately  he  was  reclaimed  by  his 
brother  Valentine,  overthrew  the  Green  Knight,  his  rival  in 
love,  and  married  Fezon,  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Savary, 
in  Aquitaine. 

See  Corson's  Introduction.  Miss  Burt's  Browning's 
Women  discusses  this  poem  in  the  chapter  on  "  Lost 
Chords."  Mrs.  Owen,  in  the  fourth  number  of  The  Brown- 
ing Society's  Papers,  1 : 49*,  analyses  and  interprets  the 
poem  in  an  allegorical  manner.  Dr.  Furnivall  and  others, 
in  the  discussion  following  the  paper,  say  that  the  poem  is 
simply  a  romance.  John  T.  Nettleship,  in  Essays  on 
Browning's  Poetry,  gives  a  chapter  to  this  poem,  and  it  is 
discussed  in  Kingsland's  Chief  Poet  of  the  Age. 

Flower's  Name,  The.     See  Garden  Fancies. 

Flute-Music,  With  an  Accompaniment.  A  solan- 
do,  1889. 

Forgiveness,  A.  Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems,  1876. 

The  speaker  is  a  man  who  makes  confession  to  his  con- 
fessor of  the  crime  by  which  he  had  poisoned  his  wife  in 
jealousy  of  a  supposed  rival.  She  had  told  him  the  truth 


Founder  of  the  Feast.  —  Fra  Lippo  Lippi.    143 

concerning  her  relations  to  another,  but  his  jealousy  made 
her  write  in  her  own  blood,  with  a  dagger,  the  confession 
she  makes ;  and  the  dagger  is  poisoned.  The  dagger  de- 
scribed was  one  possessed  by  Browning  himself  in  a  large 
collection  of  similar  deadly  implements. 

Founder  of  the  Feast,  The.  A  series  of  popular 
concerts  were  held  in  London,  at  St.  James'  Hall,  on  Satur- 
days and  Mondays.  They  were  managed  by  Mr.  Arthur 
Chappell ;  and  when  the  patrons  presented  him  with  an 
album  Browning  wrote  in  it  a  poem  addressed  "  To  Arthur 
Chappell."  Printed  in  The  World,  April  16,  1884 ;  The 
Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  seven,  2  : 18*  ;  River- 
side edition  Browning's  Works,  1889. 

THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  FEAST. 

"  Enter  my  palace,"  if  a  prince  should  say  — 

' '  Feast  with  the  Painters  !     See,  in  bounteous  row, 
They  range  from  Titian  up  to  Angelo  !  ' ' 

Could  we  be  silent  at  the  rich  survey  ? 

A  host  so  kindly,  in  as  great  a  way 

Invites  to  banquet,  substitutes  for  show 
Sound  that 's  diviner  still,  and  bids  us  know 

Bach  like  Beethoven  ;  are  we  thankless,  pray  ? 

Thanks,  then,  to  Arthur  Chappell,  —  thanks  to  him 
Whose  every  guest  henceforth  not  idly  vaunts 
"  Sense  has  received  the  utmost  Nature  grants, 

My  cup  was  filled  with  rapture  to  the  brim, 

When,  night  by  night,  —  ah,  memory,  how  it  haunts !  — 
Music  was  poured  by  perfect  ministrants, 

By  Halle,  Schumann,  Piatti,  Joachim." 

April  5th,  1884. 

Fra  Lippo  Lippi.  Men  and  Women,  1855,  and  has 
since  retained  its  place  in  that  volume.  Written  at  Rome 
in  the  winter  of  1853-1854. 

Filippo  Lippi  was  born  at  Florence,  in  1406.  He  studied 
art  under  Tommasaccio,  who  is  usually  known  as  Masaccio, 
and  who  is  called  in  the  poem  "  hulking  Tom."  His  pov- 
erty in  childhood  carried  him  into  a  convent,  but  he  was  by 
nature  wholly  unfitted  for  that  kind  of  life.  He  escaped 
from  it,  led  a  free  and  easy  life  of  travel  and  adventure, 
and  finally  settled  in  Florence  under  the  patronage  of 
Cosimo  de'  Medici.  He  was  a  realist  in  art,  painting  life 


144  Fra  Lippo  Lippi. 

as  he  saw  it  about  him  ;  and  even  sacred  subjects  he  treated 
in  the  same  manner.  He  was  bold,  fervid,  naive,  full  of 
delight  in  the  natural,  and  not  inclined  to  refine  or  idealize. 
The  coarseness  of  his  life,  as  contrasted  with  the  beauty 
of  his  artistic  work,  is  the  subject  of  the  poem.  It  was  to 
Vasari's  Lives  of  the  'most  Eminent  Painters,  Sculptors, 
and  Architects  that  Browning  was  indebted  for  his  concep- 
tion of  this  painter,  and  he  has  more  or  less  fully  versified 
the  account  there  given  of  him.  He  has  added  many 
touches  of  his  own,  such  as  were  needed  to  make  the  story 
of  Lippi's  life  fit  for  his  poetic  purposes.  Vasari's  account, 
as  translated  by  Mrs.  Forster,  contains  some  items  of  inter- 
est about  the  life  of  this  painter  not  made  use  of  by  Brown- 
ing, but  which  help  in  securing  a  just  estimate  of  his  char- 
acter. The  narrative  is  as  follows  : 

"  The  Carmelite  monk,  Fra  Filippo  di  Tommaso  Lippi, 
was  born  at  Florence  in  a  bye  street  called  Ardiglione, 
under  the  Canto  alia  Cuculia,  and  behind  the  convent  of 
the  Carmelites.  By  the  death  of  his  father  he  was  left  a 
friendless  orphan  at  the  age  of  two  years,  his  mother  having 
also  died  shortly  after  his  birth.  The  child  was  for  some 
time  under  the  care  of  a  certain  Mona  Lapaccia.  his  aunt, 
the  sister  of  his  father,  who  brought  him  up  with  very  great 
difficulty  till  he  had  attained  his  eighth  year,  when,  being  no 
longer  able  to  support  the  burden  of  his  maintenance,  she 
placed  him  in  the  above-named  convent  of  the  Carmelites. 
Here,  in  proportion  as  he  showed  himself  dexterous  and  in- 
genious in  all  works  performed  by  hand,  did  he  manifest 
the  utmost  dullness  and  incapacity  in  letters,  to  which  he 
would  never  apply  himself,  nor  would  he  take  any  pleasure 
in  learning  of  any  kind.  The  boy  continued  to  be  called 
by  his  worldly  name  of  Filippo  ;  and,  —  being  placed  with 
others,  who  like  himself  were  in  the  house  of  the  novices, 
under  the  care  of  the  master,  to  the  end  that  the  latter 
might  see  what  could  be  done  with  him,  —  in  place  of  study- 
ing, he  never  did  anything  but  daub  his  own  books,  and 
those  of  the  other  boys,  with  caricatures,  whereupon  the 
prior  determined  to  give  him  all  means  and  every  opportu- 
nity for  learning  to  draw.  The  chapel  of  the  Carmine  had 
then  been  newly  painted  by  Masaccio,  and  this  being  ex- 
ceedingly beautiful  pleased  Fra  Filippo  greatly,  wherefore 


Fra  Lippo  Lippi.  145 

he  frequented  it  daily  for  his  recreation,  and,  continually 
practising  there  in  company  with  many  other  youths,-  who 
were  constantly  drawing  in  that  place,  he  surpassed  all  the 
others  by  very  much  in  dexterity  and  knowledge  :  inasmuch 
as  he  was  considered  certain  to  accomplish  some  marvelous 
thing  in  the  course  of  time.  For  not  only  in  his  youth,  but 
when  almost  in  his  childhood,  he  performed  so  many  praise- 
worthy labors,  that  it  was  truly  wonderful.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  said  that  Fra  Filippo  was  much  addicted  to  the 
pleasures  of  sense,  insomuch  that  he  would  give  all  that  he 
possessed  to  secure  the  gratification  of  whatever  inclination 
might  at  the  moment  be  predominant ;  but  if  he  could  by 
no  means  accomplish  his  wishes,  he  would  then  depict  the 
object  which  had  attracted  his  attention,  in  his  paintings, 
and  endeavor  by  discoursing  and  reasoning  with  himself  to 
diminish  the  violence  of  his  inclination.  It  was  known  that 
while  occupied  in  the  pursuit  of  his  pleasures,  the  works  un- 
dertaken by  him  received  little  or  none  of  his  attention ; 
for  which  reason  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  wishing  him  to  execute 
a  work  in  his  own  palace,  shut  him  up,  that  he  might  not 
waste  his  time  in  running  about ;  but  having  endured  this 
confinement  for  two  days,  he  then  made  ropes  with  the 
sheets  of  his  bed,  which  he  cut  to  pieces  for  that  purpose, 
and  so  having  let  himself  down  from  a  window,  escaped, 
and  for  several  days  gave  himself  up  to  his  amusements. 
When  Cosimo  found  that  the  painter  had  disappeared,  he 
caused  him  to  be  sought,  and  Fra  Filippo  at  last  returned 
to  his  work,  but  from  that  time  forward  Cosimo  gave  him 
his  liberty  to  go  in  and  out  at  his  pleasure,  repenting  greatly 
of  having  previously  shut  him  up  when  he  considered  the 
danger  that  Fra  Filippo  -had  incurred  by  his  folly  in  de- 
scending from  the  window ;  and  ever  afterwards,  laboring' 
to  keep  him  to  his  work  by  kindness  only,  he  was  by  this 
means  much  more  promptly  and  effectually  served  by  the 
painter,  and  was  wont  to  say  that  the  excellencies  of  rare 
genius  were  as  forms  of  light  and  not  beasts  of  burden.  .  .  . 

"  In  Florence,  .  .  .  having  received  a  commission  from  the 
nuns  of  Santa  Margherita  to  paint  a  picture  for  the  high 
altar  of  their  church,  he  one  day  chanced  to  see  the  daughter 
of  Francesco  Buti,  a  citizen  of  Florence,  who  had  been  sent 
to  the  Convent,  either  as  a  novice  or  boarder.  Fra  Filippo 


146  Fra  Lippo  Lippi. 

having  given  a  glance  at  Lucrezia,  for  such  was  the  name 
of  the  girl,  who  was  exceedingly  beautiful  and  graceful,  so 
persuaded  the  nuns,  that  he  prevailed  on  them  to  permit 
him  to  make  a  likeness  of  her  for  the  figure  of  the  Virgin 
in  the  work  he  was  executing  for  them.  The  result  of  this 
was  that  the  painter  fell  violently  in  love  with  Lucrezia, 
and  at  length  found  means  to  influence  her  in  such  a  man- 
ner, that  he  led  her  away  from  the  nuns,  and  on  a  certain 
day,  when  she  had  gone  forth  to  do  honor  to  the  Cintola  of 
our  Lady.  By  this  event  the  nuns  were  deeply  disgraced, 
and  the  father  of  Lucrezia  was  so  grievously  afflicted 
thereat,  that  he  nevermore  recovered  his  cheerfulness,  and 
made  every  possible  effort  to  regain  his  child.  But  Lucre- 
zia, whether  retained  by  fear  or  by  some  other  cause,  would 
not  return,  but  remained  with  Filippo,  to  whom  she  bore  a 
son,  who  was  also  called  Filippo,  and  who  eventually  be- 
came a  most  excellent  and  very  famous  painter  like  his 
father.  .  .  . 

"  Fra  Filippo  was  indeed  so  highly  estimated  for  his 
great  gifts,  that  many  circumstances  in  his  life  which  were 
very  blamable  received  pardon,  and  were  partly  placed  out 
of  view,  in  consideration  of  his  extraordinary  abilities.  .  .  . 
He  was  an  artist  of  such  power,  that  in  his  own  time  he 
was  surpassed  by  none,  and  even  in  our  days  there  are  very 
few  superior  to  him ;  therefore  it  is  that  he  has  not  only 
been  always  eulogized  by  Michael  Angelo,  but  in  many 
things  has  been  imitated  by  that  master.  .  .  . 

"  He  lived  creditably  by  his  laboi-s,  and  expended  very 
large  sums  on  the  pleasures  to  which  he  continued  to  addict 
himself,  even  to  the  end  of  his  life.  Fra  Filippo  was  re- 
quested by  the  commune  of  Spoleto  to  paint  the  chapel  in 
their  principal  church,  and  this  work  he  was  conducting  to 
a  successful  termination,  when,  being  overtaken  by  death, 
he  was  prevented  from  completing  it.  It  was  said  that  the 
libertinism  of  his  conduct  occasioned  this  catastrophe,  and 
that  he  was  poisoned  by  certain  persons  related  to  the  ob- 
ject of  his  love.  .  .  .  Pope  Eugenius  IV.  offered  in  his 
lifetime  to  give  him  a  dispensation  that  he  might  make 
Lucrezia  di  Francesco  Buti  his  legitimate  wife ;  but  Fra 
Fih'ppo,  desiring  to  retain  the  power  of  living  after  his  own 
fashion,  and  of  indulging  his  love  of  pleasure  as  might  seem 
good  to  him,  did  not  care  to  accept  that  offer." 


Fra  Lippo  Lippi.  147 

In  Richter's  Commentaries  on  the  Lives  of  Vasari  the 
errors  of  the  Italian  writer  are  corrected  with  reference  to 
Lippi.  "  The  romantic  story  which  Vasari  tells  is  too  ex- 
citing not  to  arouse  the  suspicion  that  little  in  it  may  stand 
the  test  of  documentary  evidence.  In  the  interest  of  clear- 
ing up  all  doubts  in  this  matter,  Signor  Gaetano  Milanesi 
has  of  late  undertaken  to  bring  together  all  the  documents 
in  which  the  artist  is  named,  and  he  has  thus  been  enabled 
to  re-write  the  whole  life,  the  data  of  which  may  be  summed 
up  in  the  following  brief  account.  The  date  of  his  birth 
is  most  probably  the  year  1406,  not  1402  as  Vasari  has  it 
in  his  first  edition,  nor  1412  as  we  read  in  his  second  edi- 
tion. When  about  eight  years  old  he  was  sent  to  the  con- 
vent Del  Carmine,  where  he  received  the  ordinary  monastic 
instruction.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  became  a  novice,  and 
in  1421  the  holy  orders  were  solemnly  bestowed  upon  him. 
The  young  friar  seems  to  have  studied  painting  not  only 
from  the  works  of  Masaccio,  but  also  under  the  direction  of 
this  master,  who  was  at  work  in  the  church  of  the  same  mon- 
astery until  his  death,  which  occurred  in  1468.  In  1430 
and  1431  the  account  books  of  the  monastery  distinguish  the 
friar's  name  by  adding  the  word  'painter.'  After  the  last- 
named  year  his  name  entirely  disappears  from  the  books. 
Apparently  he  left  the  monastery  in  order  to  devote  himself 
entirely  to  painting.  Vasari  says  that  in  so  doing  he  threw 
off  the  clerical  habit,  but  this  is  improbable,  since  he  con- 
tinued to  be  on  good  terms  with  the  friars  of  Del  Carmine. 
Probably  he  left  the  monastery  with  the  approbation  of  his 
superiors.  .  .  .  Documents  inform  us  that  in  1442,  by  a 
papal  bull,  he  became  rector  and  abbot  for  life  of  the  paro- 
chial church  of  San  Quirica  a  Legnaja,  near  Florence. 
Soon  after  the  year  1452,  he  settled  at  Prato,  where  he 
bought  a  house,  staying  therein  until  about  1463.  He 
seems  to  have  settled  at  Prato  soon  after  the  year  1452,  on 
account  of  the  extensive  wall-paintings  which  he  had  been 
commissioned  to  paint  there.  In  1456,  when  fifty  years 
aid,  he  became  the  chaplain  of  the  monastery  of  Santa 
Margherita,  where  he  fell  in  love  with  one  of  the  nuns, 
Lucrezia  Buti,  born  in  1435,  who  had  been  forced  to  be- 
come a  nun  in  1451,  after  the  death  of  her  father.  The 
nun  served  the  artist  as  a  model  for  the  figure  of  a  Virgin 


148  Fra  Lippo  Llppi. 

in  a  picture.  This  seems  to  have  given  her  the  opportunity 
of  revealing  to  the  artist  her  intention  of  escaping  from  in- 
voluntary captivity.  On  the  feast  of  Cintola,  the  renowned 
relic  of  Prato  Cathedral,  Fra  Filippo  succeeded  in  bringing 
her  to  his  house,  where  she  gave  birth  to  a  son,  Filippo  or 
Filippino,  the  renowned  painter  (1457).  Spinetta  Buti,  the 
sister  of  Lucrezia  (born  1434),  with  other  nuns,  followed 
the  example  given  them  by  Lucrezia,  and  fled  from  the 
monastery,  but  in  1459  all  had  to  return  and  to  re-enter  the 
novitiate.  In  1461  there  were  before  the  magistrate  new 
accusations  against  Fra  Filippo  and  others  for  their  disor- 
derly intimacy  with  the  nuns  of  Santa  Margherita.  But 
before  the  end  of  the  same  year  Pope  Pius  II.,  on  the  rec- 
ommendation of  Cosimo  de'  Medici,  granted  him  a  dispen- 
sation, recognizing  thereby  the  friar  and  the  nun  as  a 
married  couple.  Vasari  unduly  brings  against  the  artist  the 
charge  that  he,  desiring  to  retain  the  power  of  living  after 
his  own  fashion,  and  of  indulging  his  love  of  pleasure  as 
might  seem  good  to  him,  did  not  accept  the  pope's  offer. 
The  truth  is  that  he  accepted  it,  and  Lucrezia  continued  to 
live  in  his  house,  where,  in  1465,  she  was  delivered  of  a 
daughter,  named  Alessandra.  The  Pope's  dispensation  from 
ecclesiastical  duties  caused  him  the  loss  of  the  income  de- 
rived from  them,  and  he  became  thus  forced  to  depend  en- 
tirely on  his  profession  as  a  painter." 

Cosimo  of  the  Medici  is  Cosmo  de'  Medici,  the  Florentine 
statesman,  who  lived  from  1389  to  1464.  —  Pilchards  are  a 
kind  of  fish.  —  The  slave  that  holds  John  Baptist's  head 
a-dangle  by  the  hair  is  an  imaginary  picture.  The  London 
Browning  Society  publish  a  photograph  of  this  picture  in 
the  first  part  of  their  Illustrations  to  Browning's  Poems, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Ernest  Radford's  description  of  the 
picture.  —  Saint  Laurence  is  the  church  of  San  Lorenzo 
in  Florence,  containing  the  tombs  of  the  Medici,  and  sev- 
eral great  sculptures  by  Michael  Angelo.  —  Old  Aunt  La- 
paccia  is  Mona  Lapaccia,  the  sister  of  Lippi's  father.  —  The 
Eight  consisted  of  a  magistracy  of  that  number  of  men 
established  in  1376,  for  the  direction  of  the  city  government 
of  Florence.  —  Camaldolese  are  the  monks  of  the  convent 
of  Camaldoli.  —  Giotto  is  Giotto  di  Bordone,  a  painter, 
sculptor,  and  architect,  who  lived  from  1266  to  1337,  one 


Fra  Lippo  Lippi.  149 

of  Dante's  friends,  and  greatly  influential  in  the  revival  of 
art  in  Italy. 

Brother  Angelica  is  Fra  Angelico,  whose  real  name  was 
Giovanni  da  Fiesole,  and  who  lived  from  1387  to  1455. 
He  belonged  to  the  mediaeval  school  of  painters,  kept  up  the 
traditions  of  the  past,  and  the  idea  that  the  soul  was  to  be 
painted  and  not  the  flesh.  In  her  Memoirs  of  Italian 
Painters  Mrs.  Jameson  says :  "  To  Angelico  the  art  of 
painting  a  picture  devoted  to  religious  purposes  was  an  act 
of  religion,  for  which  he  prepared  himself  by  fasting  and 
prayer,  imploring  on  bended  knees  the  benediction  of  heaven 
on  his  work.  He  then,  under  the  impression  that  he  had 
obtained  the  blessing  he  sought,  and  glowing  with  what 
might  truly  be  called  inspiration,  took  up  his  pencil,  and, 
mingling  with  his  earnest  and  pious  humility  a  singular 
species  of  self-uplifted  enthusiasm,  he  could  never  be  per- 
suaded to  alter  his  first  draught  or  composition,  believing 
that  which  he  had  done  was  according  to  the  will  of  God, 
and  could  not  be  changed  for  the  better  by  any  afterthought 
of  his  own  or  suggestion  from  others." 

Brother  Lorenzo  is  Lorenzo  Monaca,  a  Camaldoli  monk, 
who  had  the  same  tendencies  with  Fra  Angelico  in  paint- 
ing. —  Guidi  is  Tommaso  Guidi,  called  Masaccio  or  Tom- 
masaccio,  Slovenly  or  Hulking  Tom.  Browning  makes 
Guidi  one  of  Lippi's  pupils,  in  this  following  good  authori- 
ties. It  now  is  probably  decided  that  Lippi  was  the  pupil 
of  Guidi.  —  The  Saint  Laurence  whose  picture  was  painted 
at  Prato  suffered  martyrdom  in  the  time  of  Valerian,  A.  D. 
258,  by  being  broiled  to  death  on  a  gridiron.  —  Sant'  Am- 
brogio's  (Ambrose's),  is  a  convent  in  Florence.  The  saint 
is  the  great  archbishop  of  Milan,  one  of  the  most  influential 
of  the  Christian  leaders  of  the  fourth  century.  —  A  pretty 
picture  gained  is  that  of  The  Coronation  of  the  Virgin)  in 
the  Accademia  delle  Belle  Arti,  Florence. 

Fra  Lippo  Lippi  died  at  Spoleto  in  1469.  Many  of  his 
pictures  are  at  Spoleto  and  Prato,  but  the  largest  number 
and  the  best  are  in  Florence.  His  Madonnas  are  in  the 
Pitti,  Uffizi,  Louvre,  and  Berlin  Galleries.  In  the  Cathe- 
dral of  Prato,  near  Florence,  are  frescoes  from  his  hand; 
and  in  the  National  Gallery,  London,  are  panels.  For  far- 
ther information  about  Lippi  see  Ltlbke,  Mrs.  Jameson's 


150     Francesco  Romanelli.  —  Francis  Furini. 

Memoirs  of  Italian  Painters,  and  other  works  on  the  his- 
tory of  art.  Vasari  has  much  to  say  about  his  pictures. 

The  story  of  Lippo  Lippi's  life,  as  told  by  Vasari,  has 
been  made  the  subject  of  a  romance  by  Margaret  Vere  Far- 
rington,  under  the  title  of  Fra  Lippo  Lippi.  Readers  of 
the  poem  will  find  this  novel  of  much  interest.  Of  special 
value  are  the  fourteen  full-page  illustrations  of  persons  and 
scenes  mentioned  in  the  poem.  These  include  a  portrait  of 
the  painter,  one  of  Fra  Lippo  Lippi  and  Lucrezia  Buti,  and 
another  of  the  Abbess  Margherita.  Lippo  Lippi's  Annun- 
ciation^ Virgin  and  Child,  Madonna  and  Child,  and  Coro- 
nation are  reproduced.  The  other  illustrations  include  two 
of  the  pictures  of  Fra  Angelico,  and  views  of  Florence, 
Ancona,  and  Spoleto. 

Francesco  Romanelli.  A  painter  of  Rome,  in  Sea- 
trice  Signorini,  who  paints  a  portrait  of  a  woman  painter, 
Artemisia,  which  is  destroyed  by  his  wife,  whose  name  is 
given  to  the  poem. 

Francis  Furini,  Parleyings  "with.  Parleyings  with 
Certain  People  of  Importance  in  Their  Day,  1883. 

Francesco  Furini  was  born  in  1604,  and  died  in  1649.  His 
father  Filippo,  called  Sciameroni,  a  painter  of  considerable 
ability,  was  his  teacher  in  art.  He  also  studied  under 
Passignano  and  Rpsselli.  Then  he  went  to  Rome.  He 
took  up  the  methods  of  Guido  and  Albani,  and  painted  arti- 
ficial and  mythological  subjects.  He  earnestly  continued 
his  studies,  however,  acquired  ability  in  design,  and  worked 
with  the  able  artist  Giovanni  di  San  Giovanni.  He  was 
especially  fond  of  designing  nude  figures,  and  in  these  he 
showed  great  delicacy ;  and  he  chose  out  those  subjects  in 
which  the  human  form  could  be  treated  with  propriety  and 
elegance,  such  as  Adam  and  Eve,  Lot  and  his  daughters, 
Noah's  drunkenness ;  or  similar  subjects  from  mythology, 
such  as  the  death  of  Adonis,  Diana  and  the  other  nymphs 
bathing,  and  the  judgment  of  Paris.  Fuseli  says  that  "  his 
works  are  excessively  praised,  and  allowed  to  possess  abun- 
dance of  grace  in  the  contours  of  his  figures,  as  well  as  in 
the  airs  of  his  heads.  Many  of  his  paintings  are  in  Florence, 
which  are  deemed  to  add  honor  to  the  valuable  collections 
of  the  nobility  of  that  city."  While  Furini  was  graceful  in 
drawing,  he  was  defective  in  color.  He  tried  to  be  proper 


Fust  and  his  Friends.  151 

in  dealing  with  the  nude,  but  he  was  sometimes  wanting  in 
refinement.  On  his  death  -  bed  he  asked  that  all  his  un- 
draped  pictures  might  be  collected  and  destroyed ;  but  this 
was  not  done.  The  change  in  sentiment  thus  expressed 
had  led  him  at  the  age  of  about  forty  to  become  a  priest ; 
and  he  was  until  his  death  an  exemplary  parish  curate,  hav- 
ing charge  of  the  parish  of  St.  Ansano  in  the  Magello.  He 
did  not,  however,  entirely  abandon  his  work  as  a  painter. 

Nettleship  says  "  this  poem  contains  a  splendid  attack  on 
the  prurient  modesty  which  finds  lust  to  be  the  chief  motive 
power  in  the  production  of  all  great  statues  or  pictures  from 
the  nude.  But  its  main  purpose,  with  which  indeed  the  bulk 
of  the  poem  is  occupied,  lies  in  a  closely  reasoned  argument, 
designed  to  prove  the  absolute  necessity  for  understanding 
the  bodily  life  of  man  before  you  can  penetrate  to  his  soul, 
and  thence  to  deduce  by  reasonable  inference  the  existence, 
outside  but  not  within  man,  though  ever  in  touch  with  him, 
of  an  infinitely  wise,  strong,  and  loving  First  Cause,  or 
God." 

Baldinucci  is  the  author  of  an  Italian  History  of  Art 
from  which  Browning  drew  his  account  of  Furini ;  and  he 
was  also  Furini's  friend.  —  Quicherat  published  in  1849  a 
five-volume  history  of  the  trial  of  Joan  d'Arc.  —  D'Alenqon 
wrote  an  account  of  her  personal  life. 

See  Nettleship,  and  a  paper  by  Arthur  Symous  in  number 
nine  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers. 

Fust  and  his  Friends.  (Inside  the  house  of 
Fust,  Mayence,  1457.)  The  epilogue  to  Parleyings 
with  Certain  People  of  Importance  in  their  Day,  1887. 

Johann  Fust  was  born  of  a  rich  burgher  family  of 
Mainz  or  Mayence,  but  the  year  is  not  known.  He  became 
a  banker,  but  his  brother  Jacob  was  a  goldsmith.  He  was 
a  money-lender  and  speculator,  and  it  was  as  such  he  first 
came  into  connection  with  Gutenberg,  the  real  inventor  of 
printing.  It  was  about  1440  that  Gutenberg  began  his  ex- 
periments which  led  to  the  invention  of  printing ;  but  in 
1448  he  had  exhausted  his  financial  resources,  and  borrowed 
money  of  Fust.  In  1449  Fust  loaned  Gutenberg  a  large 
sum,  and  agreed  to  give  him  three  hundred  florins  a  year, 
and  was  to  receive  half  profits.  Fust  did  not  keep  his  part 
of  the  agreement,  but  in  1455  brought  suit  against  Guten- 


152  Fust  and  his  Friends. 

berg,  which  resulted  in  a  verdict  in  his  favor.  Fust  moved 
his  part  of  the  printing  materials  to  his  house  called  Zum 
Humbreicht  in  Mainz,  and  there  began  to  do  printing  with 
the  aid  of  Peter  Schoeffer.  He  first  printed  the  Psalter, 
which  came  from  the  press  August  14,  1 157,  a  folio  of  350 
pages,  which  was  the  first  printed  book  with  a  complete  date. 
It  is  now  believed  that  Gutenberg  did  a  part  of  the  work 
on  this  book,  before  his  separation  from  Fust,  and  that  its 
beauty  of  workmanship  was  owing  to  this  fact. 

Trithemius,  writing  in  1514,  says  of  the  event  which  is 
described  in  the  poem :  "  Peter  Schoeffer,  at  that  time  a 
workman,  but  afterward  son-in-law,  of  the  first  inventor, 
John  Fust,  a  man  skillful  and  ingenious,  devised  a  more 
easy  method  of  founding  types,  and  thus  gave  the  art  its 
present  perfection.  And  the  three  men  [Gutenberg,  Fust, 
and  Schoeffer]  kept  secret  among  themselves,  for  a  while, 
this  method  of  printing,  up  to  the  time  when  their  work- 
men were  deprived  of  the  work,  without  which  they  were 
unable  to  practise  their  trade,  by  whom  it  was  divulged, 
first  in  Strasburg,  and  afterward  in  other  cities." 

Another  writer,  said  to  be  Jo.  Frid.  Faustus,  a  nephew 
of  Fust,  gave  this  account  of  the  invention  :  "  Fust  had 
many  workmen,  among  whom  was  Peter  Schoeffer  of 
Gernsheim,  who,  when  he  perceived  the  difficulties  and  de- 
lays of  his  master,  was  seized  with  an  ardent  desire  to  ac- 
complish the  success  of  the  new  art.  Through  the  special 
inspiration  of  God,  he  discovered  the  secret  by  which  types 
of  the  matrix,  as  they  are  called,  could  be  cut,  and  types 
could  be  founded  from  them,  which,  for  this  purpose,  could 
be  composed  in  frequent  combinations,  and  not  be  singly 
cut  as  they  had  been  before.  Schoeffer  secretly  cut  matrices 
of  the  alphabet,  and  showed  types  cast  therefrom  to  his 
master,  John  Fust,  who  was  so  greatly  pleased  with  them, 
and  rejoiced  so  greatly,  that  he  immediately  promised  to 
him  his  only  daughter,  and  soon  after  he  gave  her  to  him  in 
marriage.  But  even  with  this  kind  of  type,  great  difficulty 
was  experienced.  The  metal  was  soft  and  did  not  with- 
stand pressure,  until  they  invented  an  alloy  which  gave  it 
proper  strength.  As  they  had  happily  succeeded  in  this 
undertaking,  Fust  and  Schoeffer  bound  their  workmen  by 
oath  to  conceal  the  process  with  the  greatest  secrecy ;  but 


Fust  and  his  Friends.  153 

they  showed  to  friends,  whenever  it  pleased  them,  the  first 
experimental  types  of  wood,  which  they  tied  up  with  a 
string  and  preserved." 

These  accounts,  however,  have  been  proved  to  be  full  of 
misstatements,  and  probably  with  the  aim  of  glorifying 
Fust  and  Schoeffer  at  the  expense  of  Gutenberg.  The  lat- 
ter had  before  this  date  invented  and  used  metal  types  ; 
and  many  copies  of  his  books  had  been  put  in  circulation. 
See  a  full  history  of  the  subject  in  De  Viime's  Invention  of 
Printing,  where  the  book  printed  by  Fust  in  1457  is  fully 
described,  with  reproductions.  Also  Humphrey's  History 
of  the  Art  of  Printing,  London,  published  by  Bernard 
Qaai-itch,  which  gives  very  full  illustrations  of  Gutenberg's 
and  Fust's  books. 

Browning  has  accepted  the  Fust  account  of  the  invention 
of  printing,  as  told  by  Trithemius  and  the  anonymous 
Faustus,  as  being  a  correct  one.  At  least,  it  answered  his 
poetical  purpose.  He  describes  the  secret  printing  of  the 
Psalter,  and  the  sensation  produced  by  the  rapid  multipli- 
cation of  copies  of  the  printed  page.  The  early  printers  at 
first  imitated,  as  far  as  possible,  the  manuscript  books ; 
and  this  was  the  case  with  Fust's  Psalter.  Later  members 
of  the  Fust  family  wrote  the  name  Faustus,  which  led  to 
the  confounding  of  it  with  the  name  of  the  magician  who 
has  held  so  large  a  place  in  legend  and  poetry. 

The  statement  was  made  by  Durr,  a  professor  at  Altdorf, 
that  when  Fust  showed  his  books  he  was  suspected  of  magic 
because  he  could  produce  them  so  rapidly  and  with  such 
uniformity.  He  also  says  the  monks  opposed  Fust,  because 
he  took  from  them  the  opportunity  of  making  books. 
Other  similar  statements  were  made,  with  as  little  founda- 
tion in  truth  ;  but  they  have  been  too  often  accepted  as  a 
part  of  the  genuine  history  of  printing. 

"  The  first  book  published  by  Fust,  after  his  separation 
from  Gutenberg,"  says  De  Vinne,  "  was  the  Psalter  of 
1457,  a  folio  of  175  leaves.  Only  seven  copies  of  the 
edition  of  1457  are  known,  and  all  of  them  are  on  vellum. 
The  leaves  of  this  book  are  nearly  square,  and  they  are 
made  up,  for  the  most  part,  in  sections  of  ten  nested  leaves. 
The  size  of  the  printed  page  is  irregular,  but  most  pages 
are  about  eight  inches  wide,  and  twelve  inches  high.  .  .  • 


154     Garden  Fancies.  —  George  Bubb  Dodington. 

It  is  obviously  an  imitation  not  only  of  the  copyist's  but  of 
the  illuminator's  work  upon  a  fine  manuscript.  It  was  in- 
tended that  the  book  should  show  the  full  capacity  of  the 
newly  discovered  art.  Letters  and  lines  in  red  ink  are  to 
be  found  on  every  page,  and  there  are  many  very  large  and 
profusely  ornamented  initials  in  red  and  blue  inks.  .  .  . 
Schoeffer  was  compelled  to  brighten  the  colors  by  painting. 
Although  sold  as  a  printed  book,  the  Psalter  was  the  joint 
work  of  the  printer  and  the  illuminator,  and  the  features 
which  'the  modern  bibliographer  most  admires  are  those 
made  by  the  illuminator." 

See  Nettleship,  and  paper  by  Arthur  Symons  in  The 
Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  nine. 

Garden  Fancies.  The  poems  published  under  this 
general  title  first  appeared  in  Hood's  Magazine,  July,  1844. 
See  Nationality  in  Drinks  for  an  account  of  the  circum- 
stances of  their  publication.  The  two  poems  were,  I.  The 
Flower's  Name  ;  II.  Sibrandus  Schafnaburgensis.  They 
were  reprinted  in  the  Poems  of  1849 ;  in  the  Poetical 
Works  of  1863  they  were  put  among  the  Lyrics,  which  in 
1868  became  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

George  Bubb  Dodington,  Parleyings  with.  Par- 
leyings  with  Certain  People  of  Importance  in  Their  Day, 
1887. 

George  Bubb  was  born  in  1691,  took  the  name  of  Dod- 
ington on  the  death  of  an  uncle  who  left  him  a  large  estate, 
and  entered  Parliament  at  the  age  of  twenty-four.  He 
held  various  positions  of  importance  under  government,  es- 
pecially in  connection  with  the  navy,  was  two  or  three  times 
in  the  ministry,  was  intimately  connected  with  Frederic, 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  was  made  Baron  Melcombe  in  1761. 
He  controlled  five  votes  in  Parliament,  because  of  the  position 
of  his  family,  and  these  he  used  in  whatever  way  would  be 
the  most  to  his  own  advantage.  He  changed  sides  in  poli- 
tics whenever  advancement  could  be  secured  by  so  doing. 
He  was  given  to  intrigue  and  political  servility.  The  editor 
of  his  Diary  says  that  his  political  conduct  was  "  wholly 
directed  by  the  base  motives  of  avarice,  vanity,  and  selfish- 
ness." Another  writer  says  that  "  never  was  such  a  compo- 
sition of  vanity,  versatility,  and  servility."  He  did  not 
follow  principle  or  consistency ;  his  whole  aim  in  life  was 


George  Bubb  Dodington.  155 

political  preferment  and  the  securing  of  a  title.  So  well 
was  this  understood  that,  when  he  appeared  at  Court, 
George  II.  said  :  "  I  see  Dodington  here  sometimes  ;  what 
does  he  come  for  ?  "  On  one  occasion,  when  Horace  Wai- 
pole  was  discussing  the  majority  in  Parliament,  he  said  :  "  I 
do  not  count  Dodington,  who  must  now  always  be  in  the 
minority,  for  no  majority  will  accept  him."  Pope  called 
him  Bubo,  Churchill  satirized  him,  and  the  wits  made  him 
the  butt  of  their  sharpest  gibes.  Yet  he  had  many  to  praise 
him  ;  but  that  praise  is  explained  in  the  line  of  Young's  :  — 

"  You  give  protection  —  la  worthless  strain." 

Warton  probably  praised  him  from  the  same  cause,  his 
patronage :  — 

"  To  praise  a  Dodington,  rash  bard,  forbear ! 

What  can  thy  weak  and  ill-tuned  voice  avail, 

When  on  that  theme  both  Young  and  Thomson  fail  ?  " 

Fielding  and  Bentley  also  condescended  to  flatter  him,  for  he 
aspired  to  become  a  patron  of  literature  and  literary  men ; 
and  he  left  no  means  unused  to  secure  the  praise  which  his 
vanity  and  his  ambition  found  helpful  to  his  political  pros- 
perity. He  was  a  writer  of  versas,  and  he  had  a  high  repu- 
tation as  a  wit.  He  lived  in  luxury  and  made  a  great  dis- 
play of  his  wealth.  His  private  life,  however,  was  as  mean 
and  treacherous  as  was  his  public  career.  After  living 
with  Mrs.  Behan  for  seventeen  years  he  acknowledged  that 
he  had  been  married  to  her  all  the  time,  but  that  he  was  un- 
able to  acknowledge  his  marriage,  because  he  had  given  a 
large  bond  to  another  lady  that  he  would  marry  no  one  else. 
In  fact,  his  sole  aim  in  life  was  to  push  his  own  interests, 
and  "  to  make  some  figure  in  the  world."  His  character  is 
very  correctly  described  by  Browning  in  his  poem.  He  se- 
cured the  height  of  his  ambition  when  he  was  made  Baron 
Melcombe  ;  but  he  died  the  next  year,  in  1762.  See  his 
own^Diary,  Walpole's  Letters,  Chesterfield's  Letters,  Wai- 
pole's  Memoirs  of  George  II.,  Coxe's  Pelham  Adminis- 
tration, Edgeworth's  Education;  and  Hawkins'  Life  of 
Johnson. 

See  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  and  The  Brown- 
ing Society's  Papers,  number  nine,  paper  by  Arthur 
Symons. 


156  Gerard.  —  Gerard  de  Lairesse. 

Gerard.  The  leading  servant  of  Lord  Tresham  in  A 
Blot  on  the  'Scutcheon. 

Gerard  de  Lairesse,  Parleyings  with.  Parleylngs 
with  Certain  People  of  Importance  in  their  Day,  1887. 

Gerard  de  Lairesse  was  born  at  Lifege,  in  1640.  He 
studied  the  art  of  painting  with  his  father  and  with  Bartolet, 
acquiring  from  the  latter  his  taste  for  the  antique.  He  be- 
gan his  career  as  a  painter  in  Utrecht,  but,  meeting  with 
little  success,  he  went  to  Amsterdam,  one  of  his  pictures, 
which  he  had  sent  to  that  city,  securing  him  a  welcome  and 
patronage.  He  soon  gained  fame  and  wealth,  for  he  was 
an  industrious  and  rapid  painter,  while  his  social  qualities 
attracted  to  him  many  friends  and  admirers.  By  the  Dutch 
he  was  highly  esteemed,  for  they  ranked  him  as  their 
"  second  Raphael,  "  Hemskirk  being  the  first.  His  work 
was  unequal  in  merit,  being  executed  too  rapidly  ;  but  in 
expression  and  color  he  had  much  merit.  His  pictures  were 
largely  of  an  allegorical  and  mythological  nature,  unreal  in 
spirit  and  manner,  and  too  fanciful  to  convey  much  of  truth. 
It  is  this  tendency  toward  the  unreal  which  Browning  dis- 
cusses and  condemns  in  his  poem.  "  In  every  one  of  his 
pictures, "  says  one  who  has  written  of  him,  "  there  are 
great  appearances  of  a  masterly  genius,  for  his  expression 
is  generally  lively,  his  coloring  good,  true,  and  glowing ;  and 
a  light,  firm  touch  gives  a  beauty  and  value  to  everything 
he  painted."  Towards  the  end  of  his  life  he  became  blind: 
but  he  had  his  friends  about  him,  and  many  artists.  To 
these  he  talked  with  great  freedom  and  vivacity,  discoursing 
to  them  of  painting  and  of  the  ideal  in  art.  His  sayings 
were  noted  down  by  his  companions,  and  after  his  death, 
which  took  place  in  1711,  these  discourses  were  made  into 
a  volume,  by  a  society  of  artists,  and  published  as  his 
Treatise  on  the  Art  of  Painting.  This  work  was  trans- 
lated into  English  by  J.  F.  Fritsch,  and  published  in  1778. 
Lairesse  was  deformed,  extravagant  in  his  habits  and  tastes, 
fond  of  dress,  and  led  a  dissipated  life.  His  picture  called 
the  History  of  Heliodorus  was  accounted  his  masterpiece, 
while  his  Young  Moses  trampling  on  the  Crown  of  Pharaoh, 
Poli/xena,  Germanicus,  and  Anthony  and  Cleopatra  were 
highly  esteemed. 

The  English  translation  of  Lairesse  Browning  read  with 


Give  a  Rouse.  —  TJie  Glove.  157 

great  interest  and  satisfaction  when  a  boy,  and  it  was  his 
memory  of  this  book  which  caused  him  to  write  the  poem. 
The  eighth  stanza  was  suggested  by  ^schylus  and  the  myth 
of  Prometheus,  while  the  tenth  stanza  draws  upon  Moschus. 

The  song  at  the  end  of  this  poem  was  first  printed  in  a 
small  volume  called  the  New  Amphion,  and  published  for 
the  Edinburgh  University  Union  Fancy  Fair,  1886. 

See  Nettleship,  and  Arthur  Symons  in  number  nine  of 
The  Browning  Society's  Papers. 

Give  a  Rouse.  First  published  in  Dramatic  Lyrics, 
third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1842,  as  II.  of 
the  Cavalier  Tunes,  which  see.  Poems,  1849 ;  Lyrics, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Give  her  but  a  least  excuse  to  love  me.  Pippa's 
song  in  Pippa  Passes,  as  she  goes  along  the  street  in  front 
of  the  house  of  Jules,  vol.  i.  p.  348,  Riverside  edition  of 
Browning's  Works. 

Glove,  The.  (Peter  Ronsard  loquitur).  First  pub- 
lished in  Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics,  number  seven  of 
Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1845.  Poems,  1849  ;  Romances, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

The  story  related  in  this  poem  is  one  well  known  in  liter- 
ature, but  was  first  told  by  St.  Foix  in  his  Essai  sur  Paris. 
The  incident  occurred  in  the  reign  of  Francis  I.,  of  France, 
who  was  King  during  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
Schiller  made  use  of  this  story,  and  his  poem  will  be  found 
in  Bulwer  Lytton's  translation  of  his  Poems  and  Ballads. 
In  this  translation  the  name  of  the  lady  is  Cunigonde. 
Leigh  Hunt  tells  the  same  story  in  his  Rimini  and  Other 
Poems,  where  he  calls  it 

THE  GLOVE  AND  THE  LIONS. 

King  Francis  was  a  hearty  king,  and  lov'd  a  royal  sport, 

And  one  day,  as  his  lions  fought,  sat  looking  on  the  Court ; 

The  nobles  fill'd  the  benches  round,  the  ladies  by  their  side, 

And  'mongst  them  sat  the  Count  de  Lorge,  with  one  for  whom  he 

sigh'd: 

And  truly  't  was  a  gallant  thing  to  see  that  crowning  show, 
Valor  and  love,  and  a  king  above,  and  the  royal  beasts  below. 

Ramp'd  and  roar'd  the  lions,  with  horrid  laughing  jaws  ; 
They  bit,  they  glar'd,  gave  blows  like  beams,  a  wind  went  with  their 
paws; 


158  Gold  Hair  :  a  Legend  of  Pornic. 

With  swallowing  might  and  stifl'd  roar,  they  roll'd  on  one  another, 
Till  all  the  pit,  with  sand  and  mane,  was  in  a  thunderous  smother ; 
The  bloody  foam  above  the  bars  came  whizzing  through  the  air : 
Said  Francis,  then,  "  Faith,  gentlemen,  we  're  better  here  than  there." 

De  Lorge's  love  o'erheard  the  king,  a  beauteous,  lively  dame, 

With  smiling  lips  and  sharp  bright  eyes,  which  always  seem'd  the 

same ; 

She  thought,  The  Count,  my  lover,  is  brave  as  brave  can  be  — 
He  surely  would  do  wondrous  things  to  show  his  love  of  me  : 
King,  ladies,  lovers,  all  look  on  ;  the  occasion  is  divine,  — 
I'll  drop  my  glove,  to  prove  his  love,  then  look  at  him  and  smile. 

She  dropp'd  her   glove,  to  prove  his  love,  then  look'd  at  him  and 

smil'd; 

He  bow'd,  and  in  a  moment  leap'd  among  the  lions  wild  : 
The  leap  was  quick,  quick  was  return,  he  has  regaiu'd  the  place, 
Then  threw  the  glove,  but  not  with  love,  right  in  the  lady's  face. 
"  By  God !  "  cried  Francis,  "  rightly  done  !  "  and  he  rose  from  where 

he  sat ; 
"  No  love,  "  quoth  he,  "  but  vanity,  sets  love  a  task  like  that !  " 

Browning  was  not  satisfied  with  this  account  of  the  action 
of  the  lady  ;  and  he  gives  the  story  a  quite  different  ending, 
keeping  the  legendary  form  of  the  narrative  hy  putting  it 
into  the  mouth  of  Peter  Ronsard,  the  founder  of  the  classi- 
cal school  of  French  poets,  who  lived  in  the  time  of  King 
Francis.  Clement  Marot  was  another  poet  of  the  same 
period,  who,  at  the  court  of  Margaret  of  Navarre,  translated 
the  Psalms  in  a  spirit  so  liberal  they  had  much  to  do  in 
spreading  Protestantism.  Most  of  his  poems  were  of  a 
lyrical  and  amorous  nature. 

Gold  Hair  :  a  Legend  of  Pornic.  Dramatis  Per- 
sonce,  1864. 

This  poem  was  written  in  Normandy,  where  the  poet 
spent  several  months  for  Mrs.  Browning's  health,  in  the 
autumn  of  1858. 

According  to  Mrs.  Orr  this  is  "  a  true  story  of  Pornic, 
which  may  be  read  in  guide-books  to  the  place.  A  young 
girl  of  good  family  died  there  in  odor  of  sanctity ;  she 
seemed  too  pure  and  fragile  for  earth.  But  she  had  one 
earthly  charm,  that  of  glorious  golden  hair;  and  one  earthly 
feeling,  which  was  her  apparent  pride  in  it.  As  she  lay  on 
her  deathbed,  she  entreated  that  it  might  not  be  disturbed  ; 
and  she  was  buried  near  the  high  altar  of  the  church  of  St. 
Gilles,  a  picturesque  old  church  which  has  since  been  d3- 


Goldoni.  —  Good  to  Forgive.  159 

stroyed,  with  the  golden  tresses  closely  swathed  about  her. 
Years  afterwards,  the  church  needed  repair.  A  loose  coin 
drew  attention  to  the  spot  in  which  the  coffin  lay.  Its 
boards  had  burst,  and  scattered  about  lay  thirty  double 
louis,  which  had  been  hidden  in  the  golden  hair.  So  the 
saint-like  maiden  was  a  miser."  For  an  acount  of  Pornic 
see  Fifine  at  the  Fair  in  this  volume. 

"  This  poem,  "  according  to  Mr.  Sharp,  "  was  printed  for 
private  limited  circulation,  though  primarily  for  the  purpose 
of  securing  American  copyright.  Browning  several  times 
printed  single  poems  thus,  and  for  the  same  reasons  —  that 
is,  either  for  transatlantic  copyright,  or  when  the  verses 
were  not  likely  to  be  included  in  any  volume  for  a  prolonged 
period.  These  leaflets  or  half-sheetlets  of  Gold  Hair  and 
Prospice,  of  Cleon  and  The  Statue  and  the  Bust  are 
among  the  rarest  finds  for  the  collector." 

See  Miss  Burt's  Browning's  Women  for  a  study  of  this 
poem. 

Goldoni.  Goldoni  was  the  father  of  modern  Italian 
comedy,  and  lived  from  1707  to  1793.  He  was  a  Venetian 
by  birth,  and  wrote  largely  in  the  dialect  of  that  city.  A 
monument  to  his  memory  was  erected  at  Venice  in  1883. 
Browning  wrote  for  the  album  of  the  Committee  of  the 
Goldoni  Monument  a  stanza  which  so  pleased  its  members 
that  they  gave  it  the  first  place.  It  was  published  in  the 
Pall  Mall  Gazette  for  December  8,  1883,  and  in  the  fifth 
number  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers. 

"  Goldoni  —  good,  gay,  sunniest  of  souls,  — 

Glassing  half  Venice  in  that  verse  of  thine,  — 

What  though  it  just  reflect  the  shade  and  shine 
Of  common  life,  nor  render,  as  it  rolls, 
Grandeur  and  gloom  ?     Sufficient  for  thy  shoals 

Was  Carnival :   Parini's  depths  enshrine 

Secrets  unsuited  to  that  opaline 
Surface  of  things  which  laughs  along  thy  scrolls. 
There  throng  the  People  :  how  they  come  and  go, 

Lisp  the  soft  language,  flaunt  the  bright  garb,  —  see,— 
On  Piazza,  Calle,  under  Portico 

And  over  Bridge  !     Dear  king  of  Comedy, 
Be  honored !     Thou  that  didst  love  Venice  so, 

Venice,  and  we  who  love  her,  all  love  thee ! 
"Venice,  Nov.  27,  1883." 

Good  to  forgive.     The  opening  words  of  the  prologue 


160    Grammarians  Funeral.  —  Guardian- Angel. 

to  La  Saisiaz.  In  the  second  series  of  Selections  from  his 
poems  made  by  Browning,  1880,  this  poem  is  published  as 
III.  under  the  general  title  of  Pisgah- Sights. 

Grammarian's  Funeral,  A,  Shortly  after  the  Re- 
vival of  Learning  in  Europe.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Romances,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

This  poem  is  not  based  on  any  historical  incident,  though 
it  gives  a  faithful  description  of  the  love  of  learning  of  the 
time  mentioned  in  the  title,  as  manifested  in  the  pioneers  of 
the  Renaissance.  Such  men  were  Cyriac  of  Ancona,  Filelfo, 
Pierre  de  Maricourt,  and  many  other  scholars.  The  word 
"  grammarian  "  then  had  a  larger  meaning  than  now,  for  it 
signified  a  student  in  the  wider  sense,  one  devoted  to  letters 
or  general  learning.  The  aim  of  this  poem,  says  R.  H. 
Hutton  in  his  Literary  Essays,  "  is  to  bring  out  the  strong 
implicit  faith  in  an  eternal  career,  which  there  must  be  in 
any  man  who  devotes  his  life  wholly  to  the  preliminary  toil 
of  mastering  the  rudiments  of  language." 

The  speaker  is  the  leader  of  the  company  who  are  bear- 
ing the  Grammarian  to  his  grave.  The  parts  in  parenthesis 
are  the  directions  of  the  leader  to  his  companions  as  they 
pass  up  the  mountain  with  the  corpse.  His  diseases  are 
mentioned  as  Calculus,  the  stone ;  Tussis,  a  cough ;  hy- 
droptic,  dropsical.  —  Hoti  is  the  Greek  particle  on,  that, 
etc.  —  Oun  is  the  Greek  particle  ovv,  then,  now  then,  etc.  — 
The  enclitic  De  is  the  Greek  Se,  which  Browning  refers  to 
in  a  letter  to  the  London  Daily  News  of  Nov.  21,  1874 : 
"  To  the  Editor :  Sir,  —  In  a  clever  article  this  morning  you 
speak  of  '  the  doctrine  of  enclitic  De'  —  '  which,  with  all  def- 
erence to  Mr.  Browning,  in  point  of  fact  does  not  exist.' 
No,  not  to  Mr.  Browning :  but  pray  defer  to  Herr  Buttmann, 
whose  fifth  list  of  '  enclitics '  ends  with  '  the  inseparable  De ' 
—  or  to  Curtius,  whose  fifth  list  ends  also  with  '  De  (mean- 
ing '  towards  '  and  as  a  demonstrative  appendage).'  That 
this  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  accentuated  '  De, 
meaning  but '  was  the  '  doctrine '  which  the  Grammarian 
bequeathed  to  those  capable  of  receiving  it.  —  I  am,  sir, 
yours  obediently,  R.  B." 

Guardian- Angel,  The.  A  Picture  at  Fano.  Men 
and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Fano  is  a  town  of  about  twenty  thousand  inhabitants, 


The  Guardian- Angel.  161 

situated  on  the  Adriatic,  in  Italy,  thirty  miles  to  the  north 
of  Ancona,  and  in  the  province  known  as  the  Marches.  It 
has  a  cathedral,  several  churches,  in  which  are  many  fine 
paintings,  an  opera  -  house,  a  library,  an  academy,  and  it 
manufactures  silk  ribbon  extensively.  Many  of  the  best 
pictures  of  Guido  and  Domenichino  are  to  be  found  in  Fano. 

Giovanni  Francesco  Barbieri,  known  as  Guercino,  be- 
cause of  a  squint,  was  born  at  Cento,  near  Bologna,  in  1590. 
He  early  showed  a  great  capacity  for  art,  and  followed  the 
manner  of  Michel  Angelo  da  Caravaggio,  which  he  after- 
wards changed  for  one  more  natural  and  powerful.  He 
founded  an  academy  at  Cento,  and  many  disciples  collected 
about  him.  He  traveled  through  every  part  of  Italy  in 
the  exercise  of  his  profession,  and  as  he  worked  with  rapid- 
ity and  skill,  he  left  in  nearly  every  city  some  product  of 
his  genius.  After  the  death  of  his  friend  Guido,  he  moved 
from  Cento  to  Bologna,  where  he  died  in  1666.  He  was  a 
man  of  noble  character,  and  beloved  by  those  who  knew 
him.  His  best  pictures  are  in  Rome,  but  others  are  to  be 
found  at  Modena,  Parma,  and  in  other  cities.  His  best 
pictures  show  striking  effects  of  light  and  shade,  as  well  as 
dignity  and  force. 

The  poem  was  written  at  Ancona,  the  capital  of  the 
Marches,  which  is  situated  on  the  Adriatic.  It  has  a  popu- 
lation  of  about  fifty  thousand,  and  is  the  principal  com- 
mercial city  on  the  eastern  coast  of  Italy.  The  poem  is 
addressed  to  Alfred  Domett,  who  was  then  in  New  Zealand. 
For  an  account  of  this  friend  of  Browning's  see  Waring,  in 
this  volume. 

The  picture  which  Browning  describes,  called  IS  Angelo 
Custode,  is  in  the  church  of  St.  Augustine  at  Fano  ;  and  it 
"  represents  an  angel  standing  with  outstretched  wings  by  a 
little  child.  The  child  is  half-kneeling  on  a  kind  of  pedestal, 
while  the  angel  joins  its  hands  in  prayer ;  its  gaze  is 
directed  upwards  towards  the  sky,  from  which  cherubs  are 
looking  down."  It  is  not  regarded  as  one  of  his  chief  pic- 
tures, but  it  interested  Browning  because  of  the  subject,  and 
its  simple  pathos. 

Tairie,  in  his  Italy :  Home  and  Naples,  thus  describes 
two  of  the  pictures  of  Guercino  which  are  in  Rome  :  "  The 
principal  one,  "  he  says,  "  is  an  enormous  picture  of  Saint 


162     Guendolen  Tresham.  —  Halbert  and  Hob. 

Petronia.  The  body  is  being  taken  out  of  the  ground  while 
the  soul  is  rising  into  Paradise.  This  is  a  composite  work ; 
the  artist,  according  to  the  practice  of  schools  not  primitive, 
having  assembled  together  three  or  four  kinds  of  effect.  He 
addresses  the  eye  with  powerful  contrasts  of  light  and  dark, 
and  with  the  rich  draperies  of  the  saint  and  her  betrothed. 
He  imitates  so  literally  as  to  produce  illusion  :  the  little  boy 
holding  the  taper  is  of  striking  fidelity  —  you  have  met  him 
somewhere  in  the  streets  ;  the  two  powerful  men  raising  the 
body  have  all  the  vulgarity  and  masculine  energy  of  their 
profession.  He  is  dramatic  :  the  humble  attitude  of  the 
saint  in  heaven  is  charming,  and  the  head  crowned  with 
roses  furnishes  a  contrast  to  the  tragic  heaviness  of  the 
corpse  envolved  in  its  winding-sheet ;  the  aspect  of  Christ 
is  tender  and  affectionate,  and  not,  as  elsewhere,  a  simple 
form.  The  entire  subject  —  death,  cold  and  lugubrious, 
contrasted  with  a  happy  triumphant  resurrection  —  serves 
to  arrest  the  attention  of  the  multitude  and  excite  its  emo- 
tion." 

This  poem  was  written  during  the  first  summer  the 
Brownings  spent  in  Italy.  They  found  the  summer  of  1847 
too  hot  in  Florence  for  their  comfort,  and  they  journeyed 
to  Ancona.  They  did  not  find  the  heat  less,  but  a  happy 
summer  was  spent.  With  his  wife  by  his  side  Browning 
went  three  times  to  see  Guercino's  picture ;  and  the  poem 
grew  out  of  these  studies. 

Guendolen  Tresham.  The  cousin  and  devoted  friend 
of  Mildred  Tresham,  in  A  Blot  on  the  'Scutcheon. 

Guiseppe  Caponsacchi.  The  young  and  noble  canon 
of  Arezzo  who  aids  Pompilia,  in  The  Ring  and  the  Book, 
to  escape  from  the  house  of  Count  Guido  her  husband,  and 
conducts  her  to  the  home  of  her  parents  in  Rome.  His 
statement  forms  the  sixth  book  of  the  poem. 

Gypsy.  The  woman,  in  The  Flight  of  the  Duchess, 
who  has  a  secret  interview  with  the  Duchess,  fascinates  her, 
gives  her  some  secret  communication,  and  causes  her  to  take 
her  flight. 

Halbert  and  Hob.  Dramatic  Idyls,  First  Series, 
1879. 

The  basis  of  this  story  is  an  anecdote  related  by  Aristo- 
tle in  his  Ethics,  Book  VII.  chap.  vi.  section  5,  where  he 


Helen's  Tower.  163 

is  discoursing  of  anger  and  its  hereditary  manifestations. 
"  Anger  and  asperity,"  he  says,  "  are  more  natural  than  ex- 
cessive and  unnecessary  desires.  It  is  like  the  case  of  the 
man  who  defended  himself  for  beating  his  father,  and  he 
again  beat  his  ;  and  he  also  (pointing  to  his  child)  will  beat 
me,  when  he  becomes  a  man  ;  for  it  runs  in  our  family. 
And  he  that  was  dragged  by  his  son,  bid  him  stop  at  the 
door,  for  that  he  himself  had  dragged  his  father  so  far." 
"  The  style  of  this  idyl,"  says  Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton,  "  seems 
expressly  made  to  reflect  the  passing  ferocity  of  the  York- 
shire boors." 

Heap  cassia,  sandal-buds,  and  stripes.  The  open- 
ing words  of  the  second  song  in  Paracelsus,  vol.  i.  p.  90, 
Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works. 

Helen's  Tower.  At  the  request  of  the  Earl  of  Dufferin 
and  Clandeboye,  Browning  wrote  this  poem.  When  the 
Earl  reached  the  age  of  twenty-one  he  erected  on  a  rock 
situated  on  his  estate  at  Clandeboye,  Ireland,  a  tower  in 
memory  of  his  mother,  Helen,  Countess  of  Giffard.  The 
poem  was  printed  in  the  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of  December 
28,  1883 ;  in  the  fifth  number  of  the  Browning  Society's 
Papers,  1 :  97*  ;  and  in  an  appendix  to  volume  six  of  the 
Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works,  1889. 

HELEN'S  TOWER. 
EAei/77  €7rt  Trvpyov. 

Who  hears  of  Helen's  Tower,  may  dream  perchance 
How  the  Greek  Beauty  from  the  Scaean  Gate 
Gazed  on  old  friends  unanimous  in  hate, 

Death-doom'd  because  of  her  fair  countenance. 

Hearts  would  leap  otherwise,  at  thy  advance, 
Lady,  to  whom  this  Tower  is  consecrate  I 
Like  hers,  thy  face  once  made  all  eyes  elate, 

Yet,  unlike  hers,  was  bless' d  by  every  glance. 

The  Tower  of  Hate  is  outworn,  far  and  strange : 
A  transitory  shame  of  long  ago, 

It  dies  into  the  sand  from  which  it  sprang ; 
But  thine,  Love's  rock-built  Tower,  shalt  fear  no  change  : 
God's  self  laid  stable  earth's  foundations  so, 
When  all  the  morning-stars  together  sang. 
April  26,  1870 


164     Henry,  Earl  Mertoun.  —  Heretic's  Tragedy. 

Henry,  Earl  Mertoun.  The  lover  of  Mildred  Tres- 
1 1:1111.  in  A  Blot  on  the  'Scutcheon,  who  is  stabbed  by  her 
brother,  Earl  Tresham,  when  he  is  discovered  escaping  from 
her  window. 

Here's  to  Nelson's  Memory.  See  Nationality  in 
Drinks. 

Heretic's  Tragedy,  The  ;  A  Middle-Age  Interlude. 
Men  and  Women,  1855.  Romances,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances, 1868. 

In  the  note  following  the  title  the  author  says  this  poem 
is  "  a  glimpse  from  the  burning  of  Jacques  du  Bourg-Molay 
at  Paris,  A.  D.  1314,  as  distorted  by  the  refraction  from 
Flemish  brain  to  brain,  during  the  course  of  a  couple  of 
centuries."  Molay  was  the  last  Grand  Master  of  the 
Knights  Templars,  one  of  the  most  powerful  and  popular  of 
Middle-Age  military  organizations.  The  Knights  Templars, 
or  "  Poor  Fellow-soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ,"  or  "  the  Knight- 
hood of  the  Temple  of  Solomon,"  as  they  called  themselves, 
were  organized  very  early  in  the  twelfth  century,  as  a  result 
of  the  crusades  and  the  conquest  of  Jerusalem.  They 
were  a  secular  order  intimately  bound  to  the  Church,  and 
devoted  to  service  in  rescuing  the  Holy  Land  from  the  infi- 
del. So  long  as  the  crusades  continued  they  grew  in  wealth 
and  honor,  came  to  have  much  influence  in  the  countries 
of  Western  Europe,  and  governed  Jerusalem  or  Cyprus. 
When  the  crusading  spirit  ended  a  strong  feeling  arose 
against  them,  partly  because  they  lost  Jerusalem,  and  partly 
because  the  Western  monarchs  coveted  their  vast  wealth. 
Philip  IV.  of  France  and  Pope  Clement  V.  joined  to  over- 
throw them,  which  they  did  by  bringing  many  false  charges 
against  them,  accusing  them  of  the  basest  crimes.  Many 
of  them  were  burned,  and  their  property  was  confiscated. 
Without  doubt  many  of  them  had  become  very  corrupt, 
though  base  motives  influenced  their  enemies. 

Molay  and  three  other  officers  of  the  order  were  im- 
prisoned in  Paris  for  many  months.  Two  of  them  ac- 
knowledged that  their  order  was  in  the  wrong,  and  were 
pardoned ;  but  Molay  and  another  nobleman,  the  Grand 
Preceptor  of  the  order,  were  burned.  In  March,  1314,  the 
four  were  taken  from  their  prisons,  loaded  with  chains,  and 
brought  to  the  place  of  execution.  A  confession  was  read, 


Herve  Kiel.  165 

to  which  they  were  asked  to  assent.  When  the  Grand 
Master  was  called  upon  to  make  confession,  he  refused  so 
to  do.  "  I  do,"  he  said,  "  confess  my  guilt,  which  consists 
in  having  to  my  shame  and  dishonor,  suffered  myself, 
through  the  pain  of  torture  and  the  fear  of  death,  to  give 
utterance  to  falsehoods,  imputing  scandalous  sins  and  ini- 
quities to  an  illustrious  order,  which  hath  nobly  served  the 
cause  of  Christianity.  I  disdain  to  seek  a  wretched  and 
disgraceful  existence  by  engrafting  another  lie  upon  the 
original  falsehood."  Here  he  was  interrupted,  and,  with 
his  faithful  companion,  the  Grand  Preceptor,  who  also  de- 
clared his  own  innocence,  he  was  hurried  back  to  prison. 
The  same  day  King  Philip  ordered  their  execution,  and 
they  were  burned  to  death  in  a  slow  and  lingering  man- 
ner upon  small  fires  of  charcoal.  Further  particulars  may 
be  found  in  Woodhouse's  Military  Religious  Orders  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  and  in  C.  G.  Addison's  Knights  Tem- 
plars. Browning  tells  this  history  through  the  medium  of 
two  hundred  years  of  legend  and  bitter  prejudice ;  and  he 
thus  makes  it  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  his  studies  in 
the  grotesque. 

Herve  Kiel.  Written  at  Le  Croisic,  France,  September 
30,  1867,  and  published  in  Cornhill  Magazine,  March, 
1871.  The  poet  was  paid  £100  for  it,  which  sum  he  con- 
tributed to  the  Paris  Relief  Fund,  to  send  food  to  Paris 
after  that  city  was  besieged  by  the  Germans.  In  1876  it 
was  reprinted  in  Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems. 

Le  Croisic  is  a  small  fishing  village  near  the  mouth  of 
the  Loire,  and  it  was  the  home  of  Herve'  Kiel.  See  Two 
Poets  of  Croisic,  in  this  volume,  for  a  description  of  the 
village.  The  poem  correctly  tells  the  story  of  this  hero, 
with  the  one  exception  that  his  holiday  to  see  his  wife  was 
for  the  remainder  of  his  life,  instead  of  for  one  day.  Dr. 
Furnivall  says  that  "  the  facts  of  the  story  had  been  for- 
gotten and  were  denied  at  St.  Malo,  but  the  reports  of  the 
French  Admiralty  at  the  time  were  looked  up,  and  the  facts 
established."  This  report  says  of  the  recompense  asked  by 
Herve'  Riel :  "  Ce  brave  homme  ne  demanda  pour  re'com- 
pense  d'un  service  aussi  signal^,  qu'un  conge'  absolu  pour 
rejoindre  sa  femme,  qu'il  nommait  la  belle  Aurore."  The 
battle  of  La  Hogue  was  fought  on  May  19,  1692,  in  the 


166  Holy-Cross  Day. 

war  begun  by  Louis  XIV.  to  secure  his  succession  to  the 
Palatinate.  Several  nations  combined  against  France  un- 
der the  name  of  the  "  Grand  Alliance  "  ;  and  the  battle  of 
X<a  Hogue  was  fought  by  two  of  these,  England  and  Hol- 
land, their  combined  fleet  being  under  the  command  of  Ad- 
miral Russell.  This  battle  was  one  of  very  great  impor- 
tance, because  it  took  the  mastery  of  the  sea  from  France 
and  gave  it  to  Holland  and  England. 

Louis  XIV.  fitted  out  a  large  expedition  under  Admiral 
Tourville  for  a  descent  upon  England,  with  the  purpose  of 
restoring  James  II.  to  the  English  throne.  The  battle  was 
fought  between  the  Isle  of  Wight  and  the  peninsula  of  La 
Manche,  and  was  witnessed  from  the  Normandy  shore  by 
James.  The  English  were  victorious,  destroying  a  large 
part  of  the  French  fleet.  The  incident  of  the  poem  is  that 
of  the  saving  of  a  number  of  vessels  by  nerve"  Kiel,  by 
piloting  them  through  the  shallows  of  the  river  Ranee  as 
they  were  flying  to  St.  Malo.  It  was  thought  impossible  to 
sail  the  ships  up  the  river,  even  by  those  most  familiar  with 
it,  but  Herv^  Riel,  a  Breton  sailor,  was  able  to  do  it,  and 
thus  to  save  the  fleet  from  destruction.  Damfreville  was 
the  commander  of  the  largest  of  these  ships.  St.  Malo  and 
La  Hogue  are  on  the  north  coast  of  Normandy,  St.  Malo 
being  almost  directly  across  the  peninsula  from  Le  Croisic. 

See  the  account  of  Hervd  Riel  in  the  Promenade  au 
Croisic,  by  Gustave  Grandprd,  iii.  186,  and  Notes  sur  le 
Croisic,  a  "  Croisic  Guide-book,"  by  Caillo  Jeune,  p.  67. 

Holy  -  Cross  Day.  On  -which  the  Jews  were 
forced  to  attend  an  annual  Christian  Sermon  in 
Rome.  Men  and  Women,  1855 ;  Romances,  1863 ; 
Dramatic  Romances,  1868.  Written  in  Rome  in  the  winter 
of  1853-1854. 

One  of  the  Jews  attending  the  sermon  is  the  speaker. 
The  extract  from  the  "  Diary  by  the  Bishop's  Secretary, 
1600,"  is  a  part  of  the  satire  of  the  piece,  and  was  written 
by  Browning.  The  special  incidents  of  the  poem  are  not 
historical ;  but  it  is  historical  that  such  a  sermon  was 
preached.  Browning  says  in. a  note  at  the  end  of  the  poem 
that  "  Pope  Gregory  XVI.  abolished  this  bad  business  of 
the  sermon."  George  S.  Hillard,  in  his  Six  Months  in 
Italy,  written  in  1853,  says  :  "  By  a  bull  of  Gregory  XIII., 


Home  Thoughts.  —  The  Householder.        167 

in  the  year  1584,  all  Jews  above  the  age  of  twelve  years 
were  compelled  to  listen  every  week  to  a  sermon  from  a 
Christian  priest ;  usually  an  exposition  of  some  passage  of 
the  Old  Testament,  and  especially  those  relating  to  the 
Messiah,  from  the  Christian  point  of  view.  This  burden  is 
not  yet  wholly  removed  from  them  ;  and  to  this  day,  several 
times  in  the  course  of  a  year,  a  Jewish  congregation  is 
gathered  together  in  the  church  of  St.  Angelo  in  Pescheria, 
and  constrained  to  listen  to  a  homily  from  a  Dominican  friar, 
to  whom,  unless  his  zeal  have  eaten  up  his  good  feelings 
and  his  good  taste,  the  ceremony  must  be  as  painful  as  to 
his  hearers."  The  Ghetto  is  the  name  given  to  the  Jews' 
quarter  in  Rome  and  other  cities. 

Home  Thoughts,  from  Abroad.  Published  in  Dra- 
matic Romances  and  Lyrics,  the  seventh  number  of  Bells 
and  Pomegranates,  1845.  As  there  published  three  poems 
were  included  under  this  title:  I.  "Oh,  to  be  in  England  "  ; 
II.  "  Here 's  to  Nelson's  Memory  "  ;  III.  "  Nobly  Cape 
St.  Vincent."  In  the  Poems  of  1849  the  first  of  these  pieces 
only  appeared  under  the  title  of  Home  Thoughts  from 
Abroad  ;  and  in  all  subsequent  editions  it  has  been  so  pub- 
lished. In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  put  among 
the  Lyrics,  which  in  1868  became  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

Home  Thoughts,  from  the  Sea.  Published  in 
Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells 
and  Pomegranates,  1845.  It  there  appeared  as  the  third 
part  of  Home  Thoughts,  from  Abroad.  In  the  Poems  of 
1849  it  was  published  by  itself,  under  its  present  title.  In 
the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  classed  under  the  head 
of  Lyrics,  but  in  1868  it  took  its  place  among  the  Dramatic 
Lyrics,  which  it  has  since  held. 

The  poem  was  suggested  by  Cape  Trafalgar  and  Gibral- 
tar, and  the  victory  of  Nelson  over  the  combined  fleets  of 
Spain  and  France. 

House.     Pacchiarotto,  with  Other  Poems,  1876. 

An  answer  to  those  critics  who  ask  that  the  poet  should 
make  his  poems  reflect  his  own  personal  life.  It  contains 
the  same  idea  as  Wordsworth's  sonnet  on  the  sonnet,  though 
probably  not  suggested  by  it.  Mrs.  Orr,  Fotheringham,  and 
Symons  have  brief  interpretations. 

Householder,   The.      This   poem   is  the   epilogue  to 


168  How  it  strikes  a  Contemporary. 

Fifine  at  the  Fair,  and  sums  up  the  teaching  of  what  has 
preceded. 

How  it  strides  a  Contemporary.  Men  and  Wo- 
men, 1855. 

The  speaker  is  a  Spanish  gentleman,  while  the  names  and 
the  scenery  are  Spanish.  This  is  the  earliest  of  Browning's 
poems  in  which  he  interprets  his  poetical  ideas  or  his  con- 
ception of  poetry  as  an  art.  He  treats  the  same  subject  in 
Transcendentalism,  Memorabilia,  and  Popularity,  which 
were  also  published  in  Men  and  Women.  Later,  he  re- 
turned to  the  same  theme  in  the  epilogue  to  Dramatic 
Idyls,  the  epilogue  to  Pacchiarotto,  and  in  At  the  Mer- 
maid. The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic  is  a  quite  thorough  dis- 
cussion of  the  functions  of  the  poetic  art.  His  introductory 
essay  to  the  letters  of  Shelley  interprets  his  own  poetical 
ideas,  and  especially  his  desire  to  reconcile  the  objective  and 
the  subjective  phases  of  the  poetic  art.  The  essays  in  Cor- 
son's  Introduction  to  Browning,  and  the  chapter  on  his 
theory  of  art  in  Alexander's  Introduction  to  Browning's 
Poetry,  clearly  interpret  the  poetical  theories  of  our  poet. 
The  two  essays  in  Mr.  Edward  Dowel  en's  Studies  in  Lit- 
erature which  treat  of  Browning  give  a  good  idea  of  his 
philosophy  of  poetry. 

In  the  Shelley  essay  Browning  puts  his  theory  of  poetry 
into  these  words  :  "  The  whole  poet's  function  [is  thatj  of 
beholding  with  an  understanding  keenness  the  universe, 
nature,  and  man,  in  their  actual  state  of  perfection  in  im- 
perfection —  being  untempted,  by  the  manifold  partial  de- 
velopments of  beauty  and  good  on  every  side,  into  leaving 
them  the  ultimates  he  found  them,  —  induced  by  the  facility 
of  the  gratification  of  his  own  sense  of  those  qualities,  or 
by  the  pleasure  of  acquiescence  in  the  short-comings  of  his 
predecessors  in  art,  and  the  pain  of  disturbing  their  con- 
ventionalisms, —  the  whole  poet's  virtue,  I  repeat,  [is  thatj 
of  looking  higher  than  any  manifestation  yet  made  of  both 
beauty  and  good,  in  order  to  suggest  from  the  utmost  actual 
realization  of  the  one  a  corresponding  capability  in  the 
other,  and  out  of  the  calm,  purity,  and  energy  of  nature,  to 
reconstitute  and  store  up  for  the  forthcoming  stage  of  man's 
being,  a  gift  in  repayment  of  that  former  gift,  in  which 
man's  own  thought  and  passion  had  been  lavished  by  the 


/  go  to  prove  my  Soul.  169 

poet  on  the  else-incompleted  magnificence  of  the  sunrise,  the 
else  uninterpreted  mystery  of  the  lake, — so  drawing  out, 
lifting  up,  and  assimilating  this  ideal  of  a  future  man,  thus 
descried  as  possible,  to  the  present  reality  of  the  poet's  soul 
already  arrived  at  the  higher  state  of  development,  and  still 
.  aspirant  to  elevate  and  extend  itself  in  conformity  with  its 
still-improving  perceptions  of,  no  longer  the  eventual  Hu- 
man, but  the  actual  Divine." 

How  they  brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent 
to  Aix.  In  a  letter  published  in  the  Literary  World, 
March  12,  1881,  vol.  12,  p.  104,  Browning  says  to  an 
American  inquirer  about  this  poem  :  "  There  is  no  sort  of 
historical  foundation  for  the  poem  about  '  Good  News  from 
Ghent.'  I  wrote  it  under  the  bulwark  of  a  vessel,  off  the 
African  coast,  after  I  had  been  at  sea  long  enough  to  appre- 
ciate even  the  fancy  of  a  gallop  on  the  back  of  a  certain 
good  horse  '  York, '  then  in  my  stable  at  home.  It  was 
written  In  pencil  on  the  fly-leaf  of  Bartoli's  Simboli,  I  re- 
member." It  was  published  in  1845,  in  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances and  Lyrics,  the  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates. In  1863  it  appeared  in  the  Lyrics,  and  in  1868 
it  was  put  under  the  head  of  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

Although  there  is  no  historical  foundation  for  this  ride 
from  Ghent  to  Aix,  there  was  probably  in  the  mind  of 
Browning,  when  he  wrote  the  poem,  that  event  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Netherlands  known  as  the  "  Pacification  of 
Ghent, "  which  took  place  in  1576.  This  was  a  union  of 
Holland,  Zealand,  and  the  southern  Netherlands,  under  the 
leadership  of  William  of  Orange,  in  order  that  they  might 
carry  on  more  successfully  their  struggle  against  Philip  II. 
of  Spain.  See  Motley's  Rise  of  the  United  Netherlands, 
vol.  iii.  For  notes  on  the  places  passed  through  on  the 
ride  see  Rolf e's  Select  Poems  of  Robert  Browning,  p.  164. 
Set  to  music  by  Helen  J.  Ormerod ;  London,  Forsyth 
Brothers. 

Humility.     Asolando,  1889. 

I  am  a  painter  who  cannot  paint.  The  opening 
words  of  the  speech  of  Lutwyche  in  Pippa  Passes,  vol.  i. 
p.  347,  Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works. 

I  go  to  prove  my  soul.  These  words  are  spoken  by 
Paracelsus  in  the  poem  by  that  name,  part  I.  p.  40,  1.  1. 
Set  to  music  by  Ethel  Harraden  ;  London,  C.  Jeffreys. 


170         "  Imperante  Augusto  Natus  Est — ." 

"  Imperante  Augusto  Natus  Est  —  "  Asolando, 
1889. 

Two  Romans  of  the  time  of  Augustus,  the  first  emperor, 
are  about  to  enter  the  bath.  One  of  them  relates  to  his 
friend  Publius  how  the  poet  Varius  praised  Augustus  as  a 
god,  and  how  he  once  met  the  emperor  when  he  was  dis- 
guised as  a  beggar. 

Gains  Octavius  succeeded  Julius  Caesar,  whose  nephew 
he  was,  as  the  ruler  of  Rome,  though  he  had  to  conquer  the 
right  to  supreme  authority.  He  was  made  Augustus  in  27 
B.  c.,  and  died  in  A.  D.  14.  He  was  a  great  ruler,  gave 
peace  to  Rome,  built  great  public  works,  and  was  a  man  of 
intellectual  tastes. 

Lucius  Varius  Rufus  was  perhaps  born  in  64  B.  c.  and 
died  in  A.  D.  9.  He  was  for  a  few  years  regarded  as 
the  chief  epic  poet  of  Rome,  but  when  Virgil  began  to 
write  he  turned  his  attention  to  tragedy.  He  was  jealously 
devoted  to  Julius  Caesar,  and  became  popular  as  a  poet  on 
account  of  the  epic  poem  he  wrote  on  Caesar's  death. 
When  Augustus  triumphed  at  the  battle  of  Actium  over  his 
powerful  enemies  the  Thyestes  of  Varius  was  acted,  and 
the  poet  received  for  it  one  million  sesterces.  This 
tragedy  was  highly  praised  by  Quintilian,  who  said  it  would 
bear  comparison  with  the  works  of  the  Greek  tragic  poets. 
He  wrote  a  Panegyric  on  Augustus,  which  is  lost,  but  two 
lines  of  which  are  quoted  by  Horace  in  the  first  of  his 
Epistles.  It  is  this  poem,  full  of  praise  and  adulation,  to 
which  Browning  alludes.  Varius  is  principally  known  as 
having  been  the  editor  of  the  jEneid  after  the  death  of 
Virgil,  in  company  with  Plotius  Lucca. 

The  little  Flaccus  who  laughed  at  the  panegyric  by 
Varius  was  probably  Horace,  whose  name  was  Horatius 
Flaccus.  —  Mcecenas  was  the  chief  adviser  of  Augustus, 
who  ruled  Rome  and  Italy  whenever  Augustus  was  absent, 
a  man  skillful  in  business,  a  capable  ruler,  immensely  rich, 
and  the  patron  of  literary  men.  He  loved  pleasure  and 
luxury,  cultivated  literature,  and  devoted  himself  to  matters 
of  taste  and  refinement.  Among  his  intimate  friends  were 
Virgil,  Horace,  and  Varius. 

The  poem  outlines  the  events  in  the  life  of  Augustus,  and 
describes  his  great  services  to  Rome.  It  also  describes  his 


In  a  Balcony.  171 

habit  of  going  about  the  city  disguised  as  a  beggar.  At  the 
end  the  poem  refers  to  the  story  told  in  the  Lexicon  of 
Suidas,  who  describes  a  visit  which  Augustus  made  to  the 
oracle  of  Apollo  at  Delphos.  "  Augustus  having  sacrificed," 
says  Suidas,  "  asked  Pythia  who  should  reign  after  him ; 
and  the  oracle  answered  :  — 

"  '  A  Hebrew  slave,  holding  control  over  the  blessed  gods, 
Orders  me  to  leave  this  house,  and  return  to  the  underworld. 
Depart  in  silence,  therefore,  from  our  altars.'  " 

What  is  thus  told  by  Suidas  was  sometimes  expressed  by 
the  Christians  as  referring  to  the  birth  of  a  child  who 
should  overthrow  the  power  of  Augustus.  Nicephorus  re- 
lates that  when  Augustus  returned  to  Rome  after  receiving 
this  response  from  the  oracle  he  erected  an  altar  in  the 
Capitol  with  the  inscription,  "  Ara  Primogeniti  Dei." 

The  oracle  at  Delphi  bore  the  name  of  Sibyl  on  some  oc- 
casions. Virgil  says  Sibylla  was  a  priestess  of  Apollo. 
Polyhistor  says  that  she  wrote  hymns  to  Apollo,  and  that 
she  called  herself  the  wife  or  sister  of  that  god. 

In  a  Balcony.  This  drama  was  begun  at  Bagni  di 
Lucca,  or  the  baths  of  Lucca,  while  the  poet  was  walking 
alone  through  the  forest  glades,  in  the  summer  of  1853,  and 
brought  to  its  present  state  the  following  winter  in  Rome. 
It  was  the  last  of  the  dramatic  works  written  by  Brown- 
ing, and  was  not  fully  completed.  Published  in  Men  and 
Women,  1855.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  put 
among  the  plays  with  the  title,  In  a  Balcony  —  A  Scene. 
The  present  title  was  restored  in  the  Poetical  Works  of  1868. 

This  play  was  put  upon  the  stage  by  the  London  Brown- 
ing Society,  at  the  Prince's  Hall,  on  Friday  evening,  Nov. 
28,  1884,  with  Miss  Alma  Murray  as  Constance,  Miss  Nora 
Gerstenberg  as  the  Queen,  and  Mr.  Philip  Beck  as  Norbert. 
In  the  Academy  of  Dec.  6,  Mr.  Frederick  Wedmore  gave 
an  account  of  the  performance.  He  said :  "  The  audience 
included  many  of  the  most  intelligent  and  a  few  of  the  most 
sympathetic  people  in  London,  and  so  the  piece  not  only  in- 
terested but -charmed.  In  a  Balcony,  on  the  stage  as  in  the 
study,  is  for  the  few,  not  for  the  many.  It  was  thoroughly 
worth  doing,  however,  on  Friday  night.  It  was  an  im- 
mense pleasure  to  those  to  whom  it  was  a  pleasure  at  all. 
.  .  .  Miss  Murray's  Constance  was  nothing  less  than  a 


172  In  a  Gondola. 

great  performance,  instinct  with  intelligence,  grace,  and  fire. 
The  more  exacting  was  the  situation,  the  more  evident  be- 
came the  capacity  of  the  actress  to  grapple  with  it.  It  was 
the  performance  of  an  artist  who  had  thought  of  all  the 
part  contained,  and  had  understood  it  —  who  knew  how  to 
compose  a  role  as  a  whole,  and  how  to  execute  it,  alike  in 
its  least  and  in  its  most  important  detail.  It  is  long  since 
our  stage  has  seen  an  interpretation  more  picturesque  or 
more  moving."  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  of  Dec.  1,  and 
The  Academy  of  Dec.  6,  contained  notices  of  the  perform- 
ance. The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  seven, 
2  :  5*,  contains  several  of  the  newspaper  accounts. 

The  plot  of  In  a  Balcony  is  entirely  original,  no  place 
or  time  being  indicated.  The  first  part  of  the  play  was  not 
written  ;  and  it  evidently  begins  at  about  the  middle  of  the 
plot.  The  queen  who  loved  a  poet  hump-backed  and 
dwarfed  may  perhaps  refer  to  Frangoise  d'Aubigne",  who 
married  the  poet  Scarron,  and  who  afterwards  became  the 
wife  and  the  all  but  queen  of  Louis  XIV. 

The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  five,  1 : 499 
and  1 : 130*,  has  an  analysis  and  interpretation  of  the  play, 
by  Mrs.  Turnbull.  Miss  Burt's  chapter  on  brave  women, 
in  her  Browning's  Women,  is  in  part  devoted  to  Constance 
and  the  Queen. 

In  a  Gondola.  John  Forster,  Browning's  intimate 
friend,  reported  to  him  a  picture  by  Daniel  Maclise  which 
he  had  seen,  called  The  Serenade,  and  which  he  described 
to  Browning.  As  a  result  of  this  description  Browning 
wrote  the  first  stanza  of  this  poem  impromptu.  When  he 
had  seen  the  picture  he  thought  it  deserved  a  more  com- 
plete treatment,  and  wrote  the  poem  as  we  now  have  it. 
Dickens  mentions  the  poem  in  one  of  his  letters  written  in 
1844,  printed  in  Forster's  Life,  from  which  it  would  appear 
that  it  was  written  in  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields.  See  Brown- 
ing Bibliography,  and  Forster's  Life  of  Charles  Dickens, 
vol.  ii.  p.  365. 

This  poem  was  first  published  in  Dramatic  Lyrics,  num- 
ber three  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1842,  was  classed 
under  the  head  of  Romances  in  the  Poetical  Works  of 
1863,  and  in  1868  was  put  among  the  Dramatic  Romances, 
where  it  has  since  remained. 


Inapprehensiveness.  173 

The  poem  is  wholly  imaginary,  as  are  several  of  the  per- 
sons in  it.  Schidone's  eager  Duke,  Castelfranco' s  Magda- 
len, and  Tizian  (Titian)  are  paintings.  —  Schidone  was  an 
Italian  painter  of  the  sixteenth  century,  who  worked  in 
the  manner  of  Correggio,  and  died  in  1616.  —  Haste-thee- 
Luke,  called  by  the  Italians  Luca-fa-presto,  is  Luca  Gior- 
dano, a  famous  painter  of  the  seventeenth  century,  1632— 
1705.  He  worked  very  rapidly,  painted  a  great  number 
of  pictures,  and  amassed  wealth  and  fame.  —  Castelfranco 
is  Giorgio  Barbarelli,  born  in  1478,  at  Castelfranco.  One 
or  two  incidents  in  his  life,  as  described  by  Vasari,  may 
have  had  some  suggestion  for  the  poet  in  the  writing  of 
this  poem.  "  Giorgio  was,"  says  Vasari,  "  at  a  later  period 
called  Giorgione  [big  George],  as  well  from  the  character 
of  his  person  as  from  the  exaltation  of  his  mind  ;  he  was 
of  extremely  humble  origin,  but  was  nevertheless  very  pleas- 
ing in  manner,  and  most  estimable  in  character,  through 
the  whole  course  of  his  life.  Brought  up  in  Venice,  he 
took  no  small  delight  in  love-passages,  and  in  the  sound  of 
the  lute,  to  which  he  was  so  cordially  devoted,  and  which  he 
practised  so  constantly,  that  he  played  and  sang  with  the 
most  exquisite  perfection,  insomuch  that  he  was,  for  this 
cause,  frequently  invited  to  musical  assemblies  and  festivals 
by  the  most  distinguished  personages.  .  .  .  At  this  time  he 
fell  in  love  with  a  lady,  who  returned  his  affection  with 
equal  warmth,  and  they  were  immeasurably  devoted  to 
each  other.  But  in  the  year  1511  it  happened  that  the 
lady  was  attacked  by  the  plague,  when  Giorgione  also,  not 
aware  of  this  circumstance  and  continuing  his  accustomed 
visits,  was  also  infected  by  the  disease,  and  that  with  so 
much  violence  that  in  a  very  short  time  he  passed  to  another 
life.  This  event  happened  in  the  thirty-fourth  year  of  his 
age."  — Titian's  real  name  was  Tiziano  yecellio,  1477-1516. 

Inapprehensiveness.     Asolando,  1887. 

This  poem,  the  result  of  a  conversation  with  a  friend,  was 
written  at  Asolo.  The  ruin  is  the  palace  of  the  queen  of 
Cyprus,  Caterina  Cornaro  ;  in  regard  to  which  see  Aso- 
lando. The  subject  is  the  incapacity  of  one  soul  to  read 
the  inmost  thoughts  of  another.  Vernon  Lee  is  the  pseu- 
donym of  Violet  Paget,  author  of  Studies  of  the  Eighteenth 
Century  in  Italy,  Belcaro,  Ottilie,  Euphorion,  and  other 
works. 


174  In  a  Year.  —  The  Inn  Album. 

In  a  Year.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics,  1863 ; 
Dramatic.  Lyrics,  1868. 

Incident  of  the  French  Camp.  Published  in  Dra- 
matic Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates, 
1842.  It  was  printed  with  the  Soliloquy  of  a  Spanish 
Cloister,  under  the  general  title  of  Camp  and  Cloister.  In 
the  Poems  of  1849  it  was  printed  by  itself  under  its  present 
title.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  classed  among 
the  Romances,  which  in  1868  became  Dramatic  Romances  ; 
and  this  place  it  has  since  held. 

Mrs.  Orr  says  the  poem  was  founded  on  the  following 
incident :  "  A  boy  soldier  of  the  Army  of  Napoleon  has  re- 
ceived his  death  wound  in  planting  the  imperial  flag  within 
the  walls  of  Ratisbon.  He  contrives  by  a  supreme  effort  to 
gallop  out  to  the  Emperor  —  who  has  watched  the  storming 
of  the  city  from  a  mound  a  mile  or  two  away  —  fling  him- 
self from  the  horse,  and,  holding  himself  erect  by  its  mane, 
announce  the  victory.  No  sign  pf  pain  escapes  him.  But 
when  Napoleon  suddenly  exclaims  :  '  You  are  wounded,'  the 
soldier's  pride  in  him  is  touched.  *  I  am  killed,  Sire/  he 
replies  ;  and,  smiling,  falls  dead  at  the  Emperor's  feet. 
The  story  is  true  ;  but  its  actual  hero  was  a  man." 

A  careful  and  extended  search  has  not  elicited  any  other 
information  concerning  this  incident.  Ratisbon  is  a  city  of 
Bavaria,  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Danube ;  also  called 
Regensburg.  The  storming  of  Ratisbon  took  place  in  May, 
1809,  during  Napoleon's  Austrian  campaign. 

Inn  Album,  The.  Published  in  1875,  by  Smith,  Elder 
and  Co.,  London.  Pages,  i.-iv.,  1-211. 

The  form  of  this  poem  is  dialogue,  with  intervals  of  de- 
scription. The  main  features  of  the  story  told  are  historical ; 
but  the  poet  has  treated  his  materials  in  an  independent 
manner,  as  best  suited  his  poetic  purpose.  In  Notes  and 
Queries,  for  March  25,  1876,  Dr.  F.  J.  Furnivall  thus 
mentions  the  incidents  on  which  the  poem  is  based :  "  The 
story  told  by  Mr.  Browning  in  this  poem  is,  in  its  main  out- 
lines, a  real  one,  that  of  Lord  De  Ros,  once  a  friend  of  the 
great  Duke  of  Wellington,  and  about  whom  there  is  much 
in  the  Greville  Memoirs.  The  original  story  was,  of  course, 
too  repulsive  to  be  adhered  to  in  all  its  details,  of,  first, 
the  gambling  lord  producing  the  portrait  of  the  lady  he 


The  Inn  Album.  175 

had  seduced  and  abandoned,  and  offering  his  expected 
dupe,  but  real  beater,  an  introduction  to  the  lady,  as  a  bribe 
to  induce  him  to  wait  for  payment  of  the  money  he  had 
won  ;  secondly,  the  eager  acceptance  of  the  bribe  by  the 
young  gambler  and  the  suicide  of  the  lady  from  horror  at 
the  base  proposal  of  her  old  seducer.  The  story  made  a 
great  sensation  in  London  over  thirty  years  ago. 

"  Readers  of  The  Inn  Album  know  how  grandly  Mr.  Brown- 
ing has  lifted  the  base  young  gambler,  through  the  renewal 
of  that  old  love  which  the  poet  has  invented,  into  one  of  the 
most  pathetic  creations  of  modern  time,  and  has  spared  the 
base  old  roue*  the  degradation  of  the  attempt  to  sell  the  love 
which  was  once  his  delight,  and  which,  in  the  poem,  he 
seeks  to  regain,  with  feelings  one  must  hope  are  real,  as  the 
most  prized  possession  of  his  life.  As  to  the  lady,  the  poet 
has  covered  her  with  no  false  glory  or  claim  on  our  sympa- 
thy. From  the  first,  she  was  a  law  unto  herself ;  she  grati- 
fied her  own  impulses,  and  she  reaped  the  fruit  of  this. 
Her  seducer  has  made  his  confession  of  his  punishment,  and 
has  attributed,  instead  of  misery,  comfort  and  ease  to  her. 
She  has  to  tell  him,  and  the  young  man  who  has  given  her 
his  whole  heart,  that  the  supposed  comfort  and  ease  have 
been  to  her  simply  hell ;  and  tell,  too,  why  she  cannot  ac- 
cept the  true  love  that,  under  other  conditions,  would  have 
been  her  way  back  to  heaven  and  life.  What,  then,  can  be 
her  end  ?  No  higher  power  has  she  ever  sought.  Self- 
contained,  she  has  sinned  and  suffered.  She  can  no  more. 
By  her  own  hand  she  ends  her  life,  and  the  curtain  falls  on 
the  most  profoundly  touching  and  most  powerful  poem  of 
modern  times." 

The  young  girl  of  the  poem  is  the  invention  of  the  poet ; 
the  other  characters  took  part  in  the  actual  tragedy.  In  his 
Memoirs,  first  series,  Greville  mentions  Lord  De  Ros  from 
time  to  time,  and  they  traveled  together  in  Italy.  Under 
date  of  "  Newmarket,  March  29th, "  1839,  Greville  makes 
the  following  entry,  in  the  first  volume  of  the  second  series 
of  his  Memoirs,  concerning  the  death  of  his  friend  :  — 

"  Poor  De  Ros  expired  last  night  soon  after  twelve,  after  a 
confinement  of  two  or  three  months  from  the  time  he  re- 
turned to  England.  His  end  was  enviably  tranquil,  and  he 
bore  his  protracted  sufferings  with  astonishing  fortitude  and 


176  Instans  Tyrannus. 

composure.  Nothing  ruffled  his  temper  or  disturbed  his 
serenity.  His  faculties  were  unclouded,  his  memory  reten- 
tive, his  perceptions  clear  to  the  last ;  no  murmur  of  impa- 
tience ever  escaped  him,  no  querulous  word,  no  ebullition 
of  anger  or  peevishness ;  he  was  uniformly  patient,  mild, 
indulgent,  deeply  sensible  of  kindness  and  attention,  exacting 
nothing,  considerate  of  others  and  apparently  regardless  of 
self,  overflowing  with  affection  and  kindness  of  manner  and 
language  to  all  around  him,  and  exerting  all  his  moral  and 
intellectual  energies  with  a  spirit  and  resolution  that  never 
flagged  till  within  a  few  hours  of  his  dissolution,  when  nature 
gave  way  and  he  sank  into  a  tranquil  unconsciousness  in 
which  life  gently  ebbed  away.  Whatever  may  have  been 
the  error  of  his  life,  he  closed  the  scene  with  a  philosophical 
dignity  not  unworthy  of  a  sage,  and  with  a  serenity  and 
sweetness  of  disposition  of  which  Christianity  itself  could 
afford  no  more  shining  or  delightful  example.  In  him  I 
have  lost  (half  lost  before)  the  last  and  greatest  of  the 
friends  of  my  youth,  and  I  am  left  a  more  solitary  and  a 
sadder  man." 

In  a  review  of  this  poem  published  in  the  Athenaeum  Mr. 
J.  A.  Symonds  said  of  it :  "  The  raw  material  of  a  penny 
dreadful,  such  as  the  theme  here  is,  requires  more  artistic 
manipulation  than  Mr.  Browning  has  given  it  before  it  can 
be  called  a  poem.  Beauty  of  any  kind  is  what  he  has  care- 
fully excluded.  Vulgarity,  therefore,  is  stamped  upon  The 
Inn  Album,,  in  spite  of  the  ingenuity  with  which,  by  sup- 
pressing name  and  place  and  superfluous  circumstances,  the 
writer  succeeds  in  presenting  only  the  spiritual  actions  of 
his  characters  upon  each  other  in  spite  of  the  marvelous 
scalpel-exercise  of  analysis  which  bares  the  most  recondite 
motives,  in  spite  of  the  intellectual  brilliancy  which  gives  a 
value  to  everything  he  has  to  say." 

Mrs.  Orr  gives  a  careful  analysis  of  the  poem.  The 
purpose  of  the  author  is  discussed  by  Symons.  See  Mac- 
millan's  Monthly,  33  :  347  ;  The  Nation,  Henry  James, 
22  :  49  ;  International  Review,  Bayard  Taylor,  3  :  402. 

Instans  Tyrannus.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Ro- 
mances, 1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

The  instans  tyrannus  (threatening  tyrant)  of  this  poem 
was  suggested  by  the  opening  verse  of  the  third  ode  of  the 


In  Three  Days.  —  Ivan  Ivitnovitch.          177 

third  book  of  the  Odes  of  Horace.  In  the  translation  of 
Sir  Theodore  Martin  the  first  two  stanzas  read  thus,  the 
subject  of  the  ode  being  the  apotheosis  of  Romulus :  — 

"  He  that  is  just,  and  firm  of  will, 

Doth  not  before  the  fury  quake 
Of  mobs  that  instigate  to  ill, 
Nor  hath  the  tyrant's  menace  skill 
His  fixed  resolve  to  shake  ; 

"  Nor  Auster,  at  whose  wild  command 

The  Adriatic  billows  dash, 
Nor  Jove's  dread  thunder-launching  hand; 
Yea,  if  the  globe  should  fall,  he  '11  stand 
Serene  amidst  the  crash." 

In  Three  Days.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics, 
1845  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Italian  in  England,  The.  First  published  in  Dramatic 
Romances  and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates, 1845,  under  the  title  "  Italy  in  England."  In 
Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  classed  with  the  Romances 
under  the  present  title  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

This  story  is  wholly  imaginary,  but  it  describes  with  his- 
torical fidelity  the  struggle  of  Italian  liberals  against  Aus- 
trian oppression.  The  speaker  is  a  prominent  Italian  leader 
who  describes  how  he  was  hunted  by  the  Austrians,  and 
how  he  was  saved  by  a  peasant  girl.  He  had  reached  Eng- 
land when  he  relates  the  adventure.  Mrs.  Orr  says  that 
Browning  was  proud  to  remember  that  Mazzini  informed 
him  he  had  read  this  poem  to  certain  of  his  fellow-exiles  in 
England  to  show  how  an  Englishman  could  sympathize  with 
them. 

Ivan  Ivanovitch.    Dramatic  Idyls,  First  Series,  1879. 

The  startling  incident  of  this  poem  is  told  in  The  Eng- 
lishwoman in  Russia,  by  a  lady,  London,  1855.  She  thus 
graphically  relates  it :  ''A  dreadful  anecdote  was  told  me 
of  a  peasant  woman  and  her  children,  who  were  crossing 
the  forest  that  stretched  for  many  miles  between  her  isba 
and  the  neighboring  village.  They  were  in  one  of  those 
small  country  sledges,  in  shape  something  like  a  boat, 
drawn  by  a  single  horse.  Suddenly  they  heard  a  rustling 
sound  among  the  trees ;  it  was  but  faint  at  first,  but  it  rap- 
idly approached ;  the  instinct  of  the  affrighted  steed  told 


178  Ivan  Ivanovitch. 

him  that  danger  was  near  at  hand  ;  he  rushed  on  with  re- 
doubled speed.  Presently  the  short  yelp  of  a  wolf  aroused 
the  mother ;  she  started  up  and  gazed  around  ;  to  her  hor- 
ror she  beheld  a  mighty  pack  of  wolves  sweeping  across  the 
frozen  snow,  in  full  cry  upon  their  traces.  She  seized  the 
whip,  and  endeavored  by  repeated  blows  to  urge  on  the 
fear-stricken  horse  to  even  greater  swiftness.  The  poor 
animal  needed  no  incentive  to  hasten  his  steps,  but  his  force 
was  well-nigh  spent ;  his  convulsive  gasping  showed  how 
painfully  his  utmost  energies  were  exerted.  But  courage ! 
there  is  hope  !  the  village  is  in  sight !  far  off,  it  is  true,  but 
we  shall  gain  it  yet !  So  thought  the  unhappy  mother,  as 
she  cast  a  look  of  horror  on  the  hungry  savage  beasts  that 
were  following  in  the  rear,  and  saw  that  they  were  rapidly 
gaining  upon  her.  Now  they  are  near  enough  for  her  to 
see  their  open  mouths  and  hanging  tongues,  their  fiery  eyes 
and  bristling  hair,  as  they  rush  on  with  unrelenting  speed, 
turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  but  steadily  pur- 
suing their  horrible  chase.  At  last  they  came  near  enough 
for  their  eager  breathing  to  be  heard,  and  the  foremost  was 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  sledge ;  the  overspent  horse 
flagged  in  his  speed ;  all  hope  seemed  lost,  when  the 
wretched  woman,  frantic  with  despair,  caught  up  one  of  her 
three  children  and  threw  him  into  the  midst  of  the  pack, 
trusting  by  this  means  to  gain  a  little  time  by  which  the 
others  might  be  saved.  He  was  devoured  in  an  instant ; 
and  the  famished  wolves,  whose  appetites  it  had  only  served 
to  whet,  again  rushed  after  the  retreating  family.  The  sec- 
ond and  third  infant  were  sacrificed  in  the  same  dreadful 
manner ;  but  now  the  village  was  gained.  A  peasant  came 
out  of  an  isba,  at  sight  of  whom  the  wolves  fell  back.  The 
almost  insensible  woman  threw  herself  out  of  the  sledge, 
and,  when  she  could  find  sufficient  strength  to  speak,  she 
related  the  fearful  danger  in  which  she  had  been,  and  the 
horrible  means  she  had  employed  to  escape  from  it. 

" '  And  did  you  throw  them  all  to  the  wolves,  even  the 
little  baby  you  held  in  your  arms  ? '  exclaimed  the  horror- 
stricken  peasant. 

"  '  Yes,  all !  '  was  the  reply. 

"  The  words  had  scarcely  escaped  from  the  white  lips  of 
the  miserable  mother,  when  the  man  laid  her  dead  at  his 


Ivan  Ivanovitch.  179 

feet  with  a  single  blow  of  the  axe  with  which  he  was  cleav- 
ing wood  when  she  arrived.  He  was  arrested  for  the  mur- 
der, and  the  case  was  decided  by  the  Emperor,  who  par- 
doned him,  wisely  making  allowance  for  his  agitation  and 
the  sudden  impulse  with  which  horror  and  indignation  at 
the  unnatural  act  had  inspired  him." 

Mr.  Nathan  Haskell  Dole,  the  author  of  a  History  of 
Russia,  and  the  translator  of  Tolstoi  and  other  Russian 
authors,  furnishes  for  this  work  the  following  notes  :  — 

"  A  verst  is  about  .66  of  a  mile  (3500  feet).  —  I  take  it 
the  highway  broad  and  straight  from  the  Neva's  mouth 
to  Moscow's  gates  of  gold  must  refer  to  the  legend  that 
when  the  first  railroad  was  built  from  one  city  to  the  other, 
the  Emperor  Nicholas  ordered  that  it  should  run  absolutely 
straight,  himself  marking  it  with  a  ruler  on  the  map.  I  do 
not  think  the  old  highway  ran  straight.  —  Ivan  Ivanovitch 
is  equivalent  to  John  Johnson,  or  more  correctly  Jack  Jack- 
son, Ivan  being  the  familiar  of  loann,  John.  The  ending 
vitch,  however,  is  not  exactly  an  equivalent  to  son ;  it  really 
means  father.  —  Droug^  more  correctly  spelt  druk  (pro- 
nounced drook),  means  friend.  —  Browning's  motherkin 
corresponds  to  the  Russian  matushka,  and  is  an  endearing 
diminutive  of  mat,  mother  ;  it  is  always  applied  to  any  old 
peasant  woman  ;  it  is  a  familiar  form  of  address,  often  ap- 
plied to  any  woman  or  even  girl.  —  Vassili  (accented  by 
Browning  incorrectly  on  the  first  syllable)  should  be  spelt 
Vasili :  it  is  our  Basil. — Lukeria  is  a  colloquial  form  of 
Glikeria,  Glycera  ;  the  proper  diminutive  is  Lusha  and 
also  Lushka.  —  Browning  makes  one  odd  mistake  in  the 
poem ;  it  would  be  impossible  for  the  breath  to  go  up 
straight  when  the  people  were  riding  fast  in  a  Russian 
sledge.  —  He  speaks  of  twin  pigeons ;  the  most  familiar 
term  of  endearment  in  Russian  is  golubchik,  which  is  the 
diminutive  of  the  word  for  pigeon.  —  Stibpka  is  the  proper 
diminutive  of  Stepan,  Stephen  ;  the  io  merely  represents  the 
sound  of  the  e  (as  in  yelk)  with  which  it  is  written  in  Rus- 
sian. —  Pope  should  not  be  with  a  capital ;  it  simply  means 
priest.  —  MarpJia  should  be  spelt  Marfa  ;  it  is  our  Martha, 
but  the  Russians  cannot  pronounce  th  ;  they  represent  it  by 
f.  —  Pomeschlk  should  be  pomyeschik  ;  it  means  merely  a 
landed  proprietor.  —  Starosta  is  correctly  accented ;  it  is 


180  Ixion. 

the  bailiff  of  a  village,  also  overseer,  inspector ;  it  merely 
means  old  man  (from  starost,  old  age,  star,  old.)  —  Krem- 
lin is  better  kreml ;  it  is  any  fortress,  but  especially  the 
fortress  of  Moscow.  —  Katia  is  the  diminutive  of  Yekate- 
rlna,  Katherine.  —  Kblokol  is  pronounced  as  though  it  were 
two  syllables,  accent  on  the  first.  —  I  am  not  certain  about 
the  correctness  of  Teribscha.  It  should  have  no  c :  nor 
should  Stescha." 

See  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  seven, 
2  :  29*. 

Ixion.     Jocoseria.     1883. 

Ixion,  one  of  the  Greek  mythological  personages,  is  de- 
scribed in  the  Odyssey  of  Homer,  and  in  the  Georgics  of 
Virgil,  as  well  as  by  other  classic  authors.  According  to 
the  common  tradition  he  was  the  son  of  Phlegyas  ;  his 
wife  was  a  daughter  of  Deianeus.  He  was  king  of  the  La- 
pithae  or  Phlegyae,  and  the  father  of  Peirithous.  When 
Deianeus  demanded  of  Ixion  the  bridal  gifts  he  had  prom- 
ised, Ixion  treacherously  invited  him  as  if  to  a  banquet, 
and  then  contrived  to  make  him  fall  into  a  pit  filled  with 
fire.  All  the  gods  were  indignant  at  Ixion  for  this  cruel 
murder,  and  no  one  of  them  would  purify  him  until  Zeus 
did  so.  Then  Zeus  invited  Ixion  to  his  table  ;  but  the  latter 
was  ungrateful,  and  attempted  to  secure  the  love  of  Hera. 
When  Zeus  knew  of  this  he  made  an  apparition  resembling 
his  wife,  who  became  the  mother  of  a  centaur.  This  cen- 
taur became  the  father  of  the  hippocentaurs  by  the  Magne- 
sian  mares.  In  order  that  Ixion  might  be  punished  for  his 
crime,  and  for  his  want  of  gratitude,  Hermes  chained  him 
by  his  hands  and  feet  to  a  wheel  that  was  fiery  or  winged. 
This  wheel  constantly  rolled  through  the  air  in  the  lower 
world.  Ixion  was  also  scourged,  and  compelled  constantly 
to  repeat  these  words,  "  Benefactors  should  be  honored." 

Browning  has  used  this  myth  in  a  manner  of  his  own, 
for  he  makes  Ixion  represent  man's  righteous  revolt,  in  the 
spirit  of  Prometheus,  against  the  tyranny  of  an  unjust  God. 
He  becomes  the  expounder  of  defeat  as  the  true  means  to 
the  highest  success,  when  the  defeat  results  from  spiritual 
heroism. 

See  Nettleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts,  which  gives  an 
extended  interpretation  of  the  poem. 


Jacopo.  —  Jochanan  Hakkadosh.  181 

Jacopo.  The  devoted  secretary  of  the  Moorish  com- 
mander of  the  Florentine  army,  in  Luria. 

Jacynth.  The  attendant  of  the  Duchess,  in  The  Flight 
of  the  Duchess,  whose  sleep  enables  the  old  gypsy  woman 
to  fascinate  her  mistress  and  secure  her  flight. 

James  Lee's  Wife.  Dramatis  Personce,  1864;  but 
with  the  title  James  Lee.  Section  VI.  was  first  printed  in 
1836,  as  Lines,  signed  "  Z,"  in  The  Monthly  Repository, 
edited  by  W.  J.  Fox.  In  the  Poetical  Works,  1868,  the 
present  title  was  adopted,  probably  because  it  is  the  wife 
who  is  the  speaker  throughout.  The  sub-titles  were  also 
changed,  and  additions  were  made  to  the  poem.  In  1864 
the  title  of  section  one  was  At  the  Window,  and  section  six 
was  called  Under  the  Cliff.  The  whole  of  parts  two  and 
three  of  the  eighth  section  were  added  in  1868,  with  the 
exception  of  the  last  two  lines  of  the  third  part.  In  the 
Selections  of  1872  slight  changes  were  made. 

See  an  analysis  and  interpretation  of  the  poem  by  Rev. 
H.  J.  Bulkeley,  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  part  four, 
1 :  455  and  1 :  74*.  Each  section  of  the  poem  is  analyzed, 
and  the  whole  poem  is  explained  in  a  helpful  way.  Miss 
Mary  E.  Burt's  Browning's  Women,  second  chapter,  dis- 
cusses the  intellectual  characteristics  of  this  woman.  Set 
to  music  by  E.  C.  Gregory  :  London,  Novello,  Ewer  &  Co. 
Section  first,  under  the  title  of  Wilt  Thou  change  too? 
has  been  set  to  music  by  Ethel  Harraden  ;  London,  C.  Jef- 
freys. 

Jochanan  Hakkadosh.     Jocoseria,  1883. 

This  poem  is  a  piece  of  poetic  invention,  although  it  has 
the  appearance  of  having  been  drawn  from  the  Talmud. 
Browning  has  given  various  realistic  touches  to  the  poem 
by  means  of  quotations,  historic  references,  and  the  biogra- 
phic details.  Mrs.  Orr  says  :  "  Mr.  Browning  professes  to 
rest  his  narrative  on  a  Rabbinical  work,  of  which  the  title, 
given  by  him  in  Hebrew,  means  '  Collection  of  many  lies ; ' 
and  he  adds,  by  way  of  supplement,  three  sonnets,  supposed 
to  fantastically  illustrate  the  old  Hebrew  proverb,  '  from 
Moses  to  Moses  [Moses  Maimonides]  never  was  one  like 
Moses,'  and  embodying  as  many  fables  of  wildly  increasing 
audacity.  The  main  story  is  nevertheless  justified  by  tradi- 
tional Jewish  belief ;  and  Mr.  Browning  has  made  it  the 


182  Jochanan  Hakkadosh. 

vehicle  of  some  poetical  imagery  and  much  serious  thought." 
See  the  letter  from  Browning  under  Jocoseria  in  this  vol- 
ume. 

During  the  first  and  second  centuries  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem  several  Rabbis  bore  the  name  of  Jocha- 
nan, which  is  variously  spelled,  Johanan,  Jochanan,  and 
Yochanan.  —  Hakkadosh  means  "  The  Holy,"  and  in  the 
Talmud  it  is  especially  applied  to  Rabbi  Judah  II.,  the 
patriarch  or  president  of  the  Sanhedrin  at  the  beginning 
of  the  third  century  after  Christ. 

Rabbi  Jochanan  ben  Zakkai  was  a  pupil  of  Hillel.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  Sanhedrin,  and  had  an  academy  in 
Jerusalem.  After  the  destruction  of  the  city  he  went  to 
Jabne",  near  Joppa,  and  there  opened  a  great  school.  He 
was  the  leader  of  the  Jews  at  this  time,  and  the  president 
of  the  Sanhedrin.  He  severed  Judaism  from  the  sacrificial 
worship  and  gave  it  an  independent  spiritual  signification. 
He  introduced  nine  regulations  for  its  better  guidance,  ac- 
cording to  tradition.  He  was  the  founder  of  Talmudic 
Judaism. 

Rabbi  Jochanan  ben  Napaha  lived  from  199  to  279^  and 
he  was  one  of  the  leading  teachers  of  his  time.  Many 
legends,  according  to  Graetz,  are  told  of  his  death,  in  a 
special  treatise.  He  was  one  of  the  principal  teachers  whose 
sayings  are  embodied  in  the  Talmud. 

Jochanan  ben  Shabathai  is  fictitious. 

Page  211.  Mishna  means  "  doctrine,"  and  is  applied  to 
those  ordinances  or  regulations  which  became  necessary 
under  the  new  conditions  which  grew  up  after  the  destruc- 
tion of  Jerusalem.  See  McClintock  and  Strong. 

211.  Schiphaz.  An  imaginary  city,  as  Tsaddik  is  an 
imaginary  individual. 

214.  Targum.     A  paraphrase  or  translation  of  the  He- 
brew Scriptures  into  Aramaic,  with  the  Talmudic  interpreta- 
tions. 

215.  The  Bier  and  Three  Daughters.     Jewish  names  for 
the  constellation  of  the  Great  Bear.     In  Jami's  Saldmdn 
and  Absdl  there  is  a  mention  of  "Mourners  of  the  Bier," 
which  Fitzgerald  explains  as  the  Pleiades  and  the  Great 
Bear. 

216.  Akiba.     A  rabbi  of  the  generation  following  the 


Jochanan  Hakkadosh.  183 

destruction  of  Jerusalem,  who  first  established  the  princi- 
ples on  which  the  Mishna  was  formed.  He  was  the  lead- 
ing teacher  of  Judaism  at  the  time  of  the  revolt  under  Bar- 
cokheba ;  and  after  its  close  he  was  made  a  prisoner,  treated 
with  great  severity,  and  was  flayed  with  iron  pincers.  Dur- 
ing this  horrible  torture  he  repeated  the  words  of  his  faith, 
the  "  Shema  "  or  declaration  of  the  unity  of  God. 
216.  Jisehab.  Another  martyr  of  the  same  period. 

215.  Salem.     The  new  and  mystical  Jerusalem,  which, 
according  to  the  teachings  of  Judaism,  was  being  formed  by 
the  spirits  of  the  pure  and  holy.  —  Ruach.      Spirit  or  soul. 

213.  Khubbezleh.     A  name  invented  by  the  poet. 

216.  The    Ten.     Ten   martyrs    under  Hadrian.       See 
Graetz,  p.  132. 

219.  Verse  five  is  taken  from  The  Ethics  of  the  Fathers. 

222.  Djinn.     The  Arabic  original  of  "  genie,"  a  super- 
natural creature. 

223.  Edom.     The  Talmudic  name  for  Rome  or  Chris- 
tianity. 

228.  Mizraim.     The  Hebrew  name  for  Egypt. 

230.  Shushan.     The  Hebrew  for  "  Lily." 

231.  Tohu-bohu.     Void  and  waste  ;  Genesis  i.  2. 

233.  Halafta.     The  name  of  several  Talmudic  teachers. 
See  Jewish  Quarterly  Review,  2  :  249. 

234.  Og's    thiyh-bone.        Described    in     Baring-Gould's 
Myths  of  the  Patriarchs  and  Prophets.     Joseph  Jacobs, 
in  the  Jewish  Quarterly  Magazine,  has  this  to  say  :  "  At- 
tached to  Jochanan  Hakkadosh  are  three  sonnets  on  the 
well-known  Talmudic  Liigenmarchen,  to  use  the  folk-lore 
term,  of  the  legend  of  Og's  bones  and  bedstead.     They  are 
said  to  be  from  a  work  which  I  need  scarcely  say  neither  ex- 
ists nor  could  exist  under  such  a  title.    Much  heart-break- 
ing has  been  caused  by  the  bad  Hebrew  of  the  title,  but 
Browning  would  probably  have  given  the  Johnsonian  ex- 
planation :  '  Ignorance,  madam,  ignorance.'     As  some  indi- 
cation of  the  slightness  of  his  acquaintance  with  Hebrew 
idiom,  I  may  mention  that  he  was  going  to  call  his  Jocha- 
nan '  Hakkadosh  Jochanan  '  (=  John  Saint).     Through  a 
common  friend  I  pointed  out  the  error  of  the  poet,  and  the 
adjective  was  put  in  its  proper  position.     The  fact  seems  to 
me  that  Browning  could  read  his  Hebrew  Bible,  and  that 


184  Jochanan  Hakkadosh. 

was  about  the  extent  of  his  Hebrew  learning,  though  it  was 
a  foible  of  his  to  give  an  impression  of  recondite  learning." 
Professor  Toy,   Harvard   University,   has  furnished  the 
author  with  the  following  notes  :  — 

214.  Nine   Points  of  Perfection.     The   Mishna   (tract 
Pirke  Aboth,  5)  speaks  of  7  things  which  belong  to  perfec- 
tion, and  also  lays  stress  on  the  numbers  10,  4,  and  3.     I 
know  nothing  of  9. 

215.  Dob.     Hebrew  word  for  "  bear  "  (the  animal)  here 
used  of  the  constellation  of  that  name,  but  not  so  used  in 
Old  Testament  or  Talmud.  —  Aish  (and  so,  p.  229,  Aisch, 
which  is  the  German  spelling)  is  the  Hebrew  name  for  the 
Great  Sear.    The  Arabic  name  is  na'sh,  "  bier,"  and  the  tail- 
stars  are  called  the  "  daughters  of  the  bier,"  the  mourners  ; 
so  in  Job  xxxviii.  32  we  have  "  the  Bear  and  her  children." 
Some  scholars  think  that  Hebrew  Aish  (or  Ash)  has  the 
same  meaning  as  Arabic  na'sh,  and  so  thinks  Tsaddik  here, 
with   reference    to     Jochanan's     illness.  —  Banoth    means 
"  daughters  "  in  Hebrew  ;    in  Job  xxxviii.  32,  the  mascu- 
line is  used,  banim  ;  Arabic  use  the  feminine,  banat. 

216.  Akiba.    A  famous  rabbi,  who  took  part  in  the  insur- 
rection of  the  false  Messiah,  Barcokheba,  under  Hadrian  (A. 
D.  132-135),  and  was  captured  ;  according  to  the  Mishna  his 
flesh  was  scraped  from  his  bones  by  the  Romans  with  an 
iron  comb.  —  Jischab.    The  Talmud  (Gemara  of  the  tract 
Aboda  Zara,  fol.  18)  reports  the  burning  of  Rabbi  Chanina 
ben  Teradion  (somewhat  after  A.  D.  130).      There  is  no 
Yishab  ;  but  next  to  Chanina  in  the  list  of  great  teachers 
stands  Yoshobeb,  for  which  Yishab  may  here  be  put;  in 
Hebrew  these    differ   by  a    single    consonant    (2212^   an(i 


2l7.  Perida.  The  Talmud  relates  that  he  repeated  his 
teaching  to  a  dull  pupil  400  times  ;  and,  he  not  then  under- 
standing, again  400  times  ;  whereupon  a  Bathkol  (super- 
natural voice  —  literally  "  daughter  of  the  voice  ")  declared 
that  400  (not  500)  years  should  be  added  to  his  life. 

219.  Tsaddik.  A  Hebrew  name  =  Just.  Apparently 
not  a  historical  person,  but  a  name  adopted  by  the  poet  for 
one  of  the  pupils  of  Jochanan. 

227.  The  sons  of  Shimei.  An  expression  for  "  mockers," 
after  David's  enemy,  2  Sam.  xvi.  5-3. 


Jbcoseria.  185 

The  basis  of  the  poem  is  the  Judaic  belief  that  the  niach 
or  spirit  of  saintly  men  survives  three  days  after  the  time 
when  death  naturally  takes  place.  This  survival  is  accorded 
to  them  because  of  the  holy  lives  which  they  have  lived. 

The  Talmud  has  not  been  translated  into  English.  Some 
knowledge  of  it  may  be  acquired  from  Hershon's  Talmudic 
Miscellany  ;  Pick's  The  Talmud :  What  is  it  ?  Hurwitz's 
Hebrew  Tales  ;  and  Graetz's  History  of  the  Jews,  fourth 
volume. 

Jocoseria.  Published  in  March,  1883,  by  Smith,  Elder 
and  Co.,  London.  Pages,  1-143.  The  Contents  were  as 
follows :  Wanting  is  —  What  ?  Donald ;  Solomon  and 
Balkis ;  Cristina  and  Monaldeschi ;  Mary  Wollstonecraft 
and  Fuseli ;  Adam,  Lilith,  and  Eve ;  Ixion  ;  Jochanan 
Hakkadosh ;  Never  the  Time  and  the  Place  ;  Pambo. 

The  title  of  this  volume  is  mentioned  in  a  foot-note  to  the 
Note  at  the  end  of  Paracelsus,  where  the  poet  speaks  of 
"  such  rubbish  as  Melander's  Jocoseria."  In  a  letter,  ac- 
companying a  copy  of  the  volume,  sent  to  a  friend,  Brown- 
ing wrote  :  "  The  title  is  taken  from  the  work  of  Melander 
(Schwartzmann),  reviewed,  by  a  curious  coincidence,  in  the 
Blackwood  of  this  month  [Feb.  1883].  I  referred  to  it  in 
a  note  to  Paracelsus.  The  two  Hebrew  quotations  (put  in 
to  give  a  grave  look  to  what  is  mere  fun  and  invention) 
being  translated  amount  to  (1)  '  A  Collection  of  Lies '  [p. 
233]  ;  and  (2),  an  old  saying,  '  From  Moses  to  Moses  arose 
none  like  Moses  '  [p.  234]." 

Otho  Schwartzmann  (Graecised  into  Melander,  according  to 
the  fashion  of  the  age)  was  born  in  1571,  and  died  in  1640. 
Otho  was  the  son  of  a  Lutheran  clergyman,  graduated  at 
Marbourg,  and  became  a  lawyer.  In  1594  he  published 
Centuria  Controversarum  juris  feudalis ;  and  in  1599 
Exegesis  totius  Studii  PoliticL  His  Joco  -  Seria  was  a 
collection  of  stories  both  grave  and  gay.  He  drew  from 
many  sources  ancient  and  modern,  and  from  all  countries. 
He  had  read  much,  and  into  his  book  he  put  all  the  good 
stories  and  anecdotes  he  could  find.  In  telling  some  of 
these  stories  he  was  very  grave,  in  others  he  tried  to  be  very 
jocose  and  amusing,  which  accounts  for  his  title.  "  Mel- 
ander's Joco-Seria  is  a  favorable  specimen  of  a  class  of 
humorous  divertissement  with  which  scholars  occasionally 


186  Johannes  Agricola  in  Meditation. 

entertained  themselves  in  the  days  before  Latin  ceased  to 
be  the  common  language  of  literary  intercourse.  Melander's 
book,  which,  with  large  augmentations,  was  reissued  three 
or  four  times  in  different  forms,  has  happily  varied  the 
monotony  of  endless  jests  and  comicalities  by  freely  inter- 
spersing among  them  anecdotes  of  a  graver  kind.  Outside 
the  bounds  of  his  professional  studies  as  a  lawyer,  he  seems 
to  have  been  an  extensive  reader  of  miscellaneous  literature, 
ranging  from  Italian  romances  to  sermons  and  Biblical  com- 
mentaries. In  all  his  reading  he  certainly  kept  an  eye  open 
for  an  entertaining  story.  We  are  reminded  of  the  Percy 
Anecdotes,  by  the  numerous  specimens  given  of  the  sayings 
and  doings  of  princes  and  heroes  of  the  world  and  of  the 
Church.  Thus  we  find  Dionysius  of  Syracuse,  Charlemagne, 
St.  Anthony,  Luther,  The  Grand  Turk  Solyman,  St.  Maoa- 
rius,  Charles  V.,  Popes  Leo  X.  and  Julius  III.,  Philip  of 
Macedon,  Henry  VIII.  of  England,  and  scores  of  others, 
figuring  in  his  pages.  Another  feature  of  the  Percy  Anec- 
dotes we  find  anticipated  in  several  stories  illustrative  of 
the  intelligence  and  affection  of  animals."  Melander  also 
illustrated  clerical  life,  the  follies  of  women,  the  peculiarities 
of  various  professions,  told  old  stories  and  jests  in  a  new 
form,  and  had  many  anecdotes  of  witchcraft;  He  even 
wrote  a  book  on  the  criminal  process  against  witchcraft  and 
the  inadequacy  of  the  water  test.  See  Blackwood' s  Maga- 
zine, 133 :  267,  for  an  interesting  article  on  Melander's 
Joco-Seria. 

See  The  Brmvning  Society's  Palters,  1 :  93*  ;  National 
Review,  W.  J.  Courthope,  1  : 548  ;  The  Atlantic  Monthly, 
51  :  840  ;  The  Gentleman's  Magazine,  R.  H.  Shepherd, 
254:624;  The  Academy,  J.  A.  Symonds,  23:213;  The 
Athenceum,  March  24,  1883 ;  The  Saturday  Review, 
55  :  376  ;  The  Spectator,  March  17,  1883. 

Johannes  Agricola  in  Meditation.  First  printed  in 
The  Monthly  Repository,  London,  1836,  edited  by  W.  J. 
Fox,  with  the  title  Johannes  Agricola.  It  was  signed  "  Z." 
Reprinted  in  Dramatic  Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and 
Pomegranates,  1842,  as  I.  under  the  general  title  Madhouse 
Cells.  In  Poetical  Works,  1863,  classed  under  Romances, 
and  with  present  title  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868.  On  its 
first  publication,  after  the  title,  appeared  the  following:  — 


Johannes  Agricola  in  Meditation.  187 

"  '  Antinomians,  so  denominated  for  rejecting  the  Law  as 
a  thing  of  no  use  under  the  Gospel  dispensation  :  they  say, 
that  good  works  do  not  further,  nor  evil  works  hinder  sal- 
vation ;  that  the  child  of  God  cannot  sin,  that  God  never 
chastiseth  him,  that  murder,  drunkenness,  etc.,  are  sins  in 
the  wicked  but  not  in  him,  that  the  child  of  grace  being 
once  assured  of  salvation,  afterwards  never  doubteth,  .  .  . 
that  God  doth  not  love  any  man  for  his  holiness,  that  sancti- 
fication  is  no  evidence  of  justification,  etc.  Pontanus,  in  his 
Catalogue  of  Heresies,  says  John  Agricola  was  the  author 
of  this  sect,  A.  D.  1535.'  Dictionary  of  all  Religions, 
1704." 

Johannes  Agricola  (originally  Schnitter  or  Schneider) 
was  born  at  Eisleben,  Germany,  April  20,  1492,  studied  at 
Wittenberg,  was  Luther's  secretary  at  the  Leipsic  council  of 
1519,  established  reformed  worship  at  Frankfort  in  1525, 
then  was  in  Eisleben  as  teacher  of  the  high  school  and  as 
preacher.  In  1536,  through  Luther's  influence,  he  was 
made  a  professor  at  Wittenberg.  Very  soon  after  he  be- 
gan to  give  expression  to  opinions  which  he  had  previously 
promulgated  to  some  extent,  and  which  brought  him  into 
sharp  collision  with  Luther.  He  taught,  according  to  Ko'st- 
lin,  that  "  the  proclamation  of  God's  law  was  no  necessary 
part  of  Christianity,  as  such,  nor  of  the  way  of  salvation 
prepared  and  revealed  by  Christ.  The  gospel  of  the  Son 
of  God,  our  Saviour,  this  alone  should  be  proclaimed,  and 
operate  in  touching  the  hearts  of  men  and  exposing  the  true 
character  of  their  sins  as  sinfulness  against  the  Son  of  God. 
In  this  way  he  sought  to  give  full  effect  to  the  fundamental 
evangelical  doctrine,  that  the  grace  of  God  alone  had  power 
to  save  through  the  joyful  message  of  Christ.  The  personal 
vanity,  however,  which  was  the  chief  weakness  of  this  gifted, 
intellectual,  and  fairly  eloquent  man  displayed  itself  in  his 
eccentricities  of  dogma."  A  reconciliation  was  brought 
about,  but  Luther  withdrew  his  friendship  from  Agricola, 
who  left  Wittenberg  in  1540.  He  went  to  Berlin,  where 
he  was  made  court  preacher  and  supei-intendent  of  churches 
in  Brandenburg.  He  died  in  1566.  He  was  the  author  of 
numerous  theological  works ;  and  he  made  the  first  collec- 
tion of  German  proverbs,  which  he  accompanied  with  a 
commentary. 


188  King  Victor  and  King  Charles. 

Browning  does  not  correctly  represent  the  teachings  of 
Agricola,  though  his  poem  is  correct  so  far  as  many  Anti- 
nomians  are  concerned.  Agricola  held  that  the  Law  and 
the  Gospel  are  incompatible,  that  the  Law  is  only  for  the 
Jew,  and  that  the  spirit  of  Christ  abolishes  it  for  the  Chris- 
tian. The  moral  obligations,  however,  he  held  were  for  the 
Christian  as  much  as  for  any  other  person.  In  the  New 
Testament  he  found  all  the  principles  and  motives  necessary 
to  give  true  impulse  and  guidance  to  the  Christian.  It  was 
the  use  made  of  his  teachings  by  fanatics  which  cast  an 
odium  on  the  name  of  Antinomians  ;  and  it  is  this  fanatical 
and  sentimental  religion  which  Browning  has  interpreted  cor- 
rectly in  his  poem.  Many  of  the  Antinomians  taught  what  is 
attributed  to  them  in  the  Dictionary  of  all  Religions,  from 
which  Browning  quoted  when  his  poem  was  first  published. 

Joris.  The  companion  in  the  ride  which  brought  the 
good  news  from  Ghent  to  Aix. 

Jules.  The  young  French  statuary  who  has  been  de- 
luded into  marrying  Phene,  in  Pippa  Passes. 

Karshish.  The  Arab  physician,  in  An  Epistle,  who 
describes  the  raising  of  Lazarus  from  the  dead,  and  the 
change  wrought  in  his  character  because  of  that  experience. 

King,  The.  This  was  the  title  given  to  a  poem  pub- 
lished in  The  Monthly  Repository,  edited  by  W.  J.  Fox, 
London,  1835.  In  1841  it  was  incorporated  into  Pif)pa 
Passes,  Act  III.,  being  the  song,  "  A  king  lived  long  ago." 

King  Victor  and  King  Charles.  A  Tragedy. 
Bells  and  Pomegranates,  number  two,  1842.  The  "  adver- 
tisement "  prefixed  to  this  play,  on  its  first  publication,  jus- 
tifying the  manner  of  treating  the  historical  events  of  which 
it  makes  use,  has  been  retained  in  all  subsequent  editions  as 
a  preface.  Poetical  Works,  1863,  in  second  volume,  con- 
taining "  Tragedies  and  Other  Plays." 

Victor  Amadeus  II.,  Duke  of  Savoy,  was  born  in  1666, 
and  succeeded  his  father,  under  the  regency  of  his  mother, 
in  1675.  He  married  a  niece  of  Louis  XIV.  of  France, 
and  his  eldest  daughter  became  the  mother  to  Louis  XV. 
He  was  an  ambitious  ruler,  joined  his  forces  with  those  of 
Austria,  and  built  up  for  himself  an  independent  kingdom. 
During  the  long  war  at  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
which  Austria  and  Spain  waged  against  France,  he  took  the 


King  Victor  and  King  Charles.  189 

side  of  Austria;  his  country  was  invaded  by  the  French, 
but  he  showed  himself  a  capable  general  and  drove  out  his 
enemies.  By  the  treaty  of  Utrecht,  in  1713,  his  territory 
was  added  to,  Savoy  was  recognized  as  an  independent 
state,  and  he  was  made  the  king  of  Sicily.  Though 
crowned  in  the  same  year,  new  arrangements  with  Austria 
caused  him  to  give  up  Sicily,  and  he  was  made  the  king  of 
Sardinia.  He  employed  the  peace  which  followed  in  pro- 
moting the  internal  interests  of  his  country,  advancing  its 
agriculture,  finances,  and  education.  He  was  a  great  gen- 
eral and  an  able  statesman.  Few  of  the  rulers  of  the  period 
showed  higher  qualities  of  personal  and  political  capacity. 
Sismondi  says  he  was  "  the  ablest,  the  most  warlike,  and 
the  most  ambitious  monarch  of  his  age." 

Victor  was  a  man  of  a  liberal  spirit,  for  he  protected  the 
Waldenses,  established  a  national  system  of  education,  and 
was  the  first  ruler  to  expel  the  Jesuits  from  his  dominions. 
He  made  the  Turin  University  one  of  the  most  influential 
in  Italy,  and  he  established  under  it  thirty-two  colleges,  and 
a  system  of  popular  education.  He  was  admired  and  be- 
loved by  his  people,  who  had  unbounded  confidence  in  him, 
and  the  strongest  attachment  to  his  person  and  to  his  house. 

The  following  account  of  his  closing  years,  and  of  the 
events  made  use  of  by  Browning,  is  condensed  from  Anto- 
nio Gallenga's  History  of  Piedmont.  The  career  of  Victor 
Amadeus  was  one  of  almost  uninterrupted  success,  and  his 
later  years  were  crowned  with  unprecedented  prosperity. 
At  the  close  of  a  splendid  day,  however,  came  sorrow  and 
gloom.  He  beat  the  best  generals  of  his  age  and  baffled 
the  craftiest  statesmen ;  but  he  could  not  subdue  his  own 
wayward  impulses,  morbid  fancies,  and  strong  passions. 
The  end  of  his  career  constitutes  one  of  the  most  affecting 
episodes  in  the  annals  of  royalty. 

In  1715.  he  lost  his  eldest  son,  Victor,  in  whom  he  had 
great  pride.  His  daughter,  the  queen  of  Spain,  died  soon 
after.  His  heir  was  now  Charles  Emanuel,  who  had  an  un- 
gainly exterior,  and  was  never  a  favorite  of  the  king. 
After  the  death  of  his  queen,  in  1728,  Victor  married 
Anna  Teresa  Canali,  a  widowed  countess,  and  he  made  her 
marchioness  of  Spigno.  Weariness  of  the  woiid  and  a 
doting  fondness  for  his  new  bride  induced  the  king  to  abdi- 


190  King  Victor  and  King  Charles. 

cate  his  throne  in  favor  of  his  son.  He  observed  the  most 
elaborate  ceremonies  in  this  act  of  resignation.  His  people 
and  his  son  supplicated  him,  even  with  tears,  not  to  abdi- 
cate ;  but  he  adhered  to  his  purpose.  He  was  in  the  midst 
of  preparations  for  the  war  in  which  Austria  and  France 
were  the  leaders ;  and  it  was  surmised  that  his  complica- 
tions with  these  powers  led  to  his  abdication  ;  but  there  was 
no  truth  in  these  statements. 

After  leaving  the  throne  Victor  took  up  his  abode  in  the 
old  castle  of  ChambeVv,  with  his  marchioness.  Here  ennui 
beset  him,  even  the  company  of  his  lady  not  being  sufficient 
to  overcome  it.  He  had  an  attack  of  apoplexy,  which 
rendered  his  mental  faculties  feeble,  and  caused  him  to  be 
irritable,  and  subject  to  violent  fits  of  passion.  The  inar- 
chioness  had  set  her  heart  on  being  a  queen,  no  less  than  a 
king's  consort,  and  she  had  no  rest  till  she  had  stirred  up 
Victor  to  seize  again  the  crown  he  had  voluntarily  laid 
aside. 

The  king,  his  son,  twice  visited  Victor  in  his  retirement ; 
and  in  the  second  interview,  which  took  place  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1731,  as  Charles  Emanuel  accompanied  his  queen, 
Polyxena  of  Hesse,  to  the  baths  of  Evian,  he  found  his 
father  querulous,  captious,  and  dissatisfied  with  the  policy 
pursued  by  the  new  government.  Victor  directed  from 
Chambe'ry  the  councils  of  his  son,  and  he,  apparently,  com- 
plained both  that  his  instructions  had  not  been  literally  fol- 
lowed, and  that  during  and  after  his  illness  the  communica- 
tions of  the  ministers  with  him  had  suffered  interruption. 

Charles  Emanuel  quitted  his  father  after  three  days,  and 
proceeded  to  Evian  ;  but  he  had  scarcely  arrived  at  this 
place  when  a  young  Savoyard  priest,  by  name  Michon,  an- 
nounced to  him  that,  having  been  admitted  to  view  the 
royal  apartments  at  Chambe'ry,  he  had,  by  the  sheerest 
chance,  overheard  a  conversation  between  the  old  king  and 
the  marchioness,  from  which  it  was  clear  that  they  contem- 
plated a  journey  to  Turin,  with  a  view  to  possess  themselves 
of  the  royal  authority. 

Charles  Emanuel  lost  no  time  in  crossing  the  Alps,  and 
followed  the  less  frequented  path  of  the  little  St.  Bernard 
to  avoid  an  encounter  with  his  father  on  Mont  Cenis. 
Through  this  latter  mountain,  in  fact,  the  old  king  had 


King  Victor  and  King  Charles.  191 

traveled  with  his  best  speed,  but  he  nevertheless  only 
reached  Rivoli  in  time  to  hear  the  cannon  announcing  his 
son's  arrival  at  the  royal  palace  in  the  capital.  Charles  did 
not  fail  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  father  on  the  morrow. 
Victor  pleaded,  as  a  reason  for  his  return,  his  desire  to  live 
in  a  more  genial  climate  than  that  of  Savoy  ;  and  the  young 
king,  who  had  in  reality  advised  such  a  removal  at  the 
time  of  his  stay  in  Chambe'ry,  showed  himself  satisfied 
with  his  father's  resolution,  however  sudden,  and  placed  the 
castle  of  Moncalieri  at  Victor's  disposal. 

At  Moncalieri  the  old  king  received  the  homage  of  his 
son's  ministers,  and  gave  vent  in  their  presence  to  his  ill- 
humor  and  dissatisfaction,  and  even  allowed  himself  some 
harsh  and  threatening  expressions  against  them.  The  mar- 
chioness, always  by  his  side,  gave  herself  queenly  airs,  and 
her  demeanor  to  the  young  queen,  both  at  Chambe'ry  and  at 
her  new  residence,  gave  Charles  Emanuel  the  first  hint  of 
his  father's  intentions,  while  at  the  same  time  it  obliged 
him,  were  it  only  out  of  regard  to  the  royal  lady  who 
shared  his  throne,  to  frustrate  them. 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  September,  1731,  in  the  evening, 
Victor  Amadeus  sent  for  the  Marquis  del  Borgo,  and  bade 
him  deliver  up  the  deed  of  abdication.  The  minister  in  the 
greatest  perplexity  gave  some  evasive  answer,  and  hastened 
to  convey  to  the  king  the  unexpected  demand.  Charles 
Emanuel  was  a  modest,  submissive  son ;  a  man  of  upright, 
pious,  generous  nature.  His  first  impulse  was,  it  seems, 
compliance  with  his  father's  wishes.  Awakened  from  his 
sleep  by  del  Borgo,  he  summoned  his  ministers  around  him, 
and  with  them  the  archbishop  of  Turin,  Charles  Arboreo 
of  Gattinara,  and  other  conspicuous  personages.  To  these 
he  communicated  his  father's  desires,  adding  that  he  was 
ready  for  his  own  part  to  give  his  consent,  but  that  he  did 
not  deem  himself  authorized  to  divest  himself  of  the  royal 
dignity  without  at  least  the  knowledge  of  those  in  whose 
presence  he  had  solemnly  accepted  it. 

The  king's  lay  advisors,  not  unmindful  of  Victor's  threats, 
were  terrified  at  the  prospect  of  his  return  to  power ;  they 
dared  not  nevertheless  too  openly  to  propose  a  son's  rebel- 
lion against  his  father,  and  none  of  them  ventured  to 
break  silence.  The  archbishop,  Gattinara,  strongly  and  at 


192  King  Victor  and  King  Charles. 

full  length  demonstrated  the  unreasonableness  of  Victor's 
pretensions  ;  when,  at  his  persuasion,  it  was  unanimously  re- 
solved that  the  tranquillity  of  the  country  did  not  admit  of 
a  repeal  of  the  king's  act  of  abdication. 

Whilst  they  were  yet  deliberating,  a  note  was  handed  to 
the  king,  by  which  the  baron  of  St.  Remy,  commander  of 
the  citadel  of  Turin,  announced  that  at  midnight  Victor  had 
come  from  Moncalieri,  on  horseback,  followed  by  a  single 
aid-de-camp,  and  asked  for  admittance  into  the  fortress. 
The  commander  had  firmly  but  respectfully  answered  that 
the  gates  of  the  citadel  could  not  be  opened  without  an 
order  from  the  king,  whereupon  the 'old  king,  in  a  towering 
passion,  had  turned  his  horse's  head  back  to  Moncalieri. 
This  last  proof  of  Victor's  readiness  to  resort  to  extreme 
measures  determined  the  still  wavering  minds  in  the  king's 
council.  An  order  of  arrest  against  Victor  was  drawn  up, 
which  Charles  Emanuel  signed  with  trembling  hand,  with 
tears  in  his  eyes. 

The  marquis  of  Ormea,  who  had  been  raised  to  power  by 
the  father,  who  now  conducted  the  affairs  of  the  son,  and 
was  more  than  any  other  man  implicated  in  these  fatal  differ- 
ences between  them,  took  the  warrant  from  Charles's  reluc- 
tant hands,  and  on  the  night  of  the  twenty-seventh  and 
twenty-eighth  of  September  repaired  to  Moncalieri.  He 
had  encompassed  the  castle  with  troops  summoned  from  the 
neighborhood  of  the  capital,  and  charged  four  colonels  with 
the  conduct  of  the  dangerous  expedition.  These  walked, 
without  resistance,  into  the  old  king's  apartments,  where  he 
was  found  plunged  in  one  of  his  fits  of  lethargic  sleep. 
The  marchioness  awoke  and  bounded  up  with  a  scream, 
but  she  was  hurried  away,  and  conveyed  first  to  a  nunnery 
at  Carignano,  then  to  a  state  prison,  at  the  castle  of  Ceva. 
Not  a  few  of  her  relatives  and  partisans  were  arrested  in 
the  course  of  the  same  night. 

The  chevalier  Solaro,  one  of  the  colonels,  next  proceeded 
to  possess  himself  of  the  king's  sword,  which  lay  on  a  table 
by  his  bedside  ;  and  at  length  succeeded,  not  without  great 
difficulty,  in  breaking  the  king's  heavy  slumbers.  Victor 
sat  up  in  his  bed  ;  he  looked  hard  at  the  faces  of  his  disturb- 
ers, and  inquired  on  what  errand  they  came  ;  on  hearing  it 
he  burst  into  a  paroxysm  of  fury  ;  he  refused  to  accompany 


The  Laboratory.  193 

them,  to  dress,  to  rise  from  his  bed.  They  had  to  wrap 
him  in  his  bedclothes,  and  thus  to  force  him  from  the 
chamber.  The  soldiers  had  been  chosen  for  their  character 
of  reliable  steadiness  and  discipline,  but  were  not  proof 
against  the  passionate  appeals  of  the  man  who  had  so  often 
led  them  to  victory.  Murmurs  were  heard  from  the  midst 
of  them,  and  a  regiment  of  dragoons,  addressed  by  Victor 
in  the  courtyard,  gave  signs  of  open  mutiny.  The  colonel, 
count  of  Perosa,  however,  with  great  presence  of  mind, 
ordered  silence,  in  the  king's  name,  and  under  penalty  of 
death,  and  drowned  the  old  king's  voice  by  a  roll  of  the 
drums.  They  thus  shut  him  up  in  one  of  the  court  car- 
riages, into  which  he  would  admit  no  companion,  and  fol- 
lowed him  on  horseback,  with  a  large  escort,  to  the  castle  of 
Rivoli. 

Rivoli  was  for  some  time  a  very  hard  prison  to  Victor 
Amadeus,  with  bars  at  the  windows,  a  strong  guard  at  the 
doors,  and  unbroken  silence  and  solitude  within.  His  un- 
governable rage  made  him  like  a  maniac ;  and  he  cracked  a 
marble  table  with  his  fist  in  a  paroxysm  of  anguish  and  fury. 
Melancholy  followed,  the  rigor  of  his  prison  was  relaxed, 
books,  papers,  and  friends  were  allowed  him,  and  at  last  the 
companionship  of  the  marchioness.  At  his  own  request  he 
was  returned  to  Moncalieri ;  and  he  there  began  to  prepare 
for  approaching  death.  Through  his  confessor  he  begged 
for  a  last  interview  with  his  son.  Charles  Emanuel  instantly 
ordered  his  carriage ;  but  the  ministers  and  the  queen  ad- 
vised against  the  visit.  The  king  shed  tears,  but  the  father 
and  son  never  met  again.  Charles  Emanuel  never  alluded 
to  the  final  catastrophe  of  his  father's  life  without  visible 
signs  of  the  most  painful  emotion.  Victor  died  at  Monca- 
lieri on  the  thirty-first  of  October,  1732,  at  the  age  of 
sixty-six. 

See  Alexander.  Polyxena,  in  this  play,  is  put  among 
the  "  brave  women "  by  Miss  Burt  in  her  Browning's 
Women. 

Laboratory,  The.  Ancien  Regime.  Published  in 
Hood's  Magazine,  June,  1844.  For  the  reason  for  this 
publication  see  Nationality  in  Drinks.  In  Dramatiq  Ro- 
mances and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates, 1845,  this  poem  and  The  Confessional  were 


194  The  Last  Ride  Together. 

printed  under  the  general  title  of  France  and  Spain.  The 
Poems  of  1849  reprinted  this  poem  as  The  Laboratory. 
In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  put  among  the  Lyrics, 
which  in  1868  hecame  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

The  speaker  is  a  woman,  the  incident  wholly  imaginary. 
For  interpretations  see  Mrs.  Orr,  Symons,  and  Fothering- 
ham.  The  first  water-color  picture  painted  hy  D.  G.  Rossetti 
was  taken  from  the  scene  in  this  poem  where  the  girl  asks 
the  alchemist  for  poison. 

Lady  and  the  Painter,  The.     Asolando,  1889. 

A  defense  of  the  nude,  as  against  those  who  murder 
God's  creatures  in  order  to  cover  the  body  and  adorn  it. 

La  Saisiaz.  A.  E.  S.  September  14,  1877.  This 
poem  was  published  as  the  first  part  of  the  volume  called 
La  Saisiaz  :  The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic,  which  was  issued  in 
May,  1878,  by  Smith,  Elder  and  Co.,  London.  Pages,  i.— 
viii.,  1-201,  the  present  poem  occupying  5-82.  The  volume 
was  "  Dedicated  to  Mrs.  Sutherland  Orr."  The  proem  to 
the  whole  volume  begins  "  Good,  to  forgive,"  and  is  con- 
nected with  the  dedication.  La  Saisiaz  was  dated  "  Nov. 
9,  1877,"  the  day  of  its  completion. 

Browning  made  a  journey  to  Switzerland  in  the  autumn 
of  1877,  accompanied  by  his  sister  and  Miss  Anne  Egerton 
Smith,  the  proprietor  of  the  Liverpool  Mercury,  and  a 
great  admirer  of  his  poetry.  They  were  spending  a  quiet 
holiday  in  a  little  place  in  the  mountains  near  Geneva,  and 
several  delightful  weeks  had  passed,  when  Miss  Smith  sud- 
denly died  in  the  manner  described  in  the  poem.  This 
sudden  departure  of  a  friend  of  many  years'  standing  turned 
the  poet's  thoughts  towards  the  question  of  the  future,  and 
the  poem  was  written  soon  after.  The  villa  in  which  their 
vacation  was  spent  bore  the  name  of  "  La  Saisiaz,"  which 
is  the  Savoyard  for  "  the  sun  ;  "  and  thus  the  poem  got  its 
name.  The  events  connected  with  the  death  of  Miss  Smith 
are  fully  described  in  the  opening  of  the  poem. 

Mrs.  Orr  gives  an  excellent  interpretation  of  the  poem. 
In  number  eleven  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers  is  a 
long  and  thorough  study  of  the  poem  by  Rev.  W.  Robert- 
son, who  gives  a  careful  analysis  and  interpretation. 

Last  Ride  Together,  The.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Romances,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 


Leonce  Miranda.  —  A  Light  Woman.        195 

For  interpretation,  see  Nettleship's  Robert  Browning  : 
Essays  and  Thoughts,  essay  on  love  poems. 

Leonce  Miranda.  The  Parisian  jeweler,  in  Red  Cot- 
ton Night-Cap  Country,  who  forms  an  illicit  connection 
with  Clara  de  Millefleurs,  and  on  this  account  lives  at  St. 
Rambert,  and  finally  throws  himself  from  a  tower  on  his 
estate  and  dies. 

Levi  Lincoln  Thaxter.  Mrs.  Celia  Thaxter  wrote  of 
her  husband's  admiration  for  Browning's  poetry  :  "  Mr. 
Thaxter's  great  admiration  of  Browning's  genius  developed 
in  early  youth,  and  he  was  already  a  devoted  student  of  his 
poetry  long  before  Browning's  name  had  become  familiar  in 
this  country.  His  enthusiasm  was  something  beautiful,  and 
it  grew  and  strengthened  with  every  year  of  his  life.  To 
his  clear  mind  the  poet's  meaning  was  always  perfectly  in- 
telligible, and  he  had  the  power  of  making  others  under- 
stand without  an  effort  the  subtleties  of  the  master's  most 
mystic  utterances."  Thaxter  gave  readings  from  Brown- 
ing in  Boston  which  were  regarded  as  quite  remarkable  in 
the  way  of  subtle  interpretation.  A  boulder  on  the  Maine 
seacoast  marks  his  grave,  and  for  this  monument  Browning 
wrote  the  following  lines  :  — 

"  Levi  Lincoln  Thaxter.  Born  in  Watertown,  Massachu- 
setts, February  1,  1824.  Died  May  31,  1884. 

"  Thou,  whom  these  eyes  saw  never  !     Say  friends  true 
Who  say  my  soul,  helped  onward  by  my  song, 
Though  all  unwittingly,  has  helped  thee  too  ? 
I  gave  of  but  the  little  that  I  knew  : 
How  were  the  gift  requited,  while  along 
Life's  path  I  pace,  couldst  thou  make  weakness  strong  ! 
Help  me  with  knowledge  —  for  Life  's  Old  —  Death  's  New  I 
"  R.  B.  to  L.  L.  T.,  April,  1885." 

This  poem  was  first  printed  in  Poet-Lore  for  August, 
1889,  1  :  398,  an  accurate  copy  being  furnished  for  publica- 
tion by  Mrs.  Thaxter. 

Life  in  a  Love.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Light  Woman,  A.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Ro- 
mances, 1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

Mrs.  Orr  gives  a  brief  comment.  The  poem  is  mainly  of 
interest  for  the  poet's  description  of  himself  in  the  last 
stanza  as  "  a  writer  of  plays." 


196  A  Likeness.  —  The  Lost  Leader. 

Likeness,  A.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

Lines.  Under  this  title  a  poem,  signed  "  Z,"  was  printed 
in  The  Monthly  Repository,  edited  "by  W.  J.  Fox,  1836. 
See  James  Lee's  Wife,  into  which  it  was  incorporated, 
1864. 

Lost  Leader,  The.  Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics, 
seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1845.  Poems, 
1849  ;  Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

It  has  been  asserted  that  Wordsworth,  Southey,  or 
Charles  Kingsley  was  meant  by  the  poet,  each  of  these 
men  having  become  conservative  in  old  age,  after  a  youth 
of  radical  propagandism.  According  to  Notes  and  Queries, 
fifth  series,  1 :  213,  Browning  told  Walter  Thornbury  and 
Jonathan  Bouchier  that  Wordsworth  was  the  lost  leader. 
Browning  said  that  the  portrait  was  "  purposely  disguised 
a  little,  used  in  short  as  an  artist  uses  a  model,  retaining 
certain  characteristic  traits,  and  discarding  the  rest."  The 
question  is  finally  set  at  rest,  however,  by  a  letter  published 
in  Grosart's  edition  of  Wordsworth's  Prose  Works,  which 
settles  it  beyond  doubt  that  Wordsworth  was  the  original  of 
the  poem :  — 

"  19  Warwick-Crescent,  W.,  Feb.  24,  '75. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Grosart,  —  I  have  been  asked  the  question 
you  now  address  me  with,  and  as  duly  answered  it,  I  can't 
remember  how  many  times  ;  there  is  no  sort  of  objection  to 
one  more  assurance  or  rather  confession,  on  my  part,  that  I 
did  in  my  hasty  youth  presume  to  use  the  great  and  vener- 
ated personality  of  Wordsworth  as  a  sort  of  painter's  model ; 
one  from  which  this  or  the  other  particular  feature  may  be 
selected  and  turned  to  account ;  had  I  intended  more,  above 
all,  such  a  boldness  as  portraying  the  entire  man,  I  should 
not  have  talked  about '  handfuls  of  silver  and  bits  of  ribbon.' 
These  never  influenced  the  change  of  politics  in  the  great 
poet,  whose  defection,  nevertheless,  accompanied  as  it  was 
by  a  regular  face-about  of  his  special  party,  was  to  my 
juvenile  apprehension,  and  even  mature  consideration,  an 
event  to  deplore.  But  just  as  in  the  tapestry  on  my  wall  I 
can  recognize  figures  which  have  struck  out  a  fancy,  on 
occasion,  that  though  truly  enough  thus  derived,  yet  would 
be  preposterous  as  a  copy,  so,  though  I  dare  not  deny  the 
original  of  my  little  poem,  I  altogether  refuse  to  have  it 


Lost,  Lost !  yet  come.  —  Luitolfo-  197 

considered  as  the  '  very  effigies  '  of  such,  a  moral  and  intel- 
lectual superiority. 

"  Faithfully  yours,  ROBERT  BKOWNTXG." 

Mr.  Furnivall  says,  in  his  Browning  Bibliography : 
"  Wordsworth,  having  turned  Tory,  was  chiefly  aimed  at 
here  ;  but  other  men  and  incidents  were  mixed  up  with  him 
and  his  career."  As  Mr.  Furnivall  says,  the  poem  very 
fully  depicts  the  feelings  of  those  Liberals  who  were  left  be- 
hind when  Wordsworth  and  the  others  deserted  the  com- 
panions of  their  youth. 

Lost,  lost !  yet  come.  The  opening  words  of  the 
first  song  in  Paracelsus,  sung  by  Aprile,  vol.  i.  p.  53, 
Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works. 

Lost  Mistress,  The.  Dramatic  Romances  and 
Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1845. 
Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

The  title  of  this  poem  was  probably  suggested  by  The 
Lost  Leader,  published  in  the  same  volume.  For  interpre- 
tations, see  Mrs.  Orr  and  Fotheringham. 

Love  among  the  Ruins.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868.  Written  at  Rome 
in  the  winter  of  1853-1854. 

Love  in  a  Life.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Lovers'  Quarrel,  A.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Ly- 
rics, 1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

This  poem  has  been  set  to  music  by  E.  C.  Gregory  ;  Lon- 
don, Novello,  Ewer  &  Co. 

Lucrezia.  The  wife  of  Andrea  del  Sarto,  in  the  poem 
with  that  title,  to  whom  her  husband  is  speaking  in  the 
poem,  and  who  compares  his  own  painting  with  that  of 
Raphael,  declaring  that  he  might  have  done  as  good  work 
had  she  given  him  the  inspiration  for  its  accomplishment. 

Lucy  Percy,  Countess  of  Carlisle.  The  devoted 
friend  and  admirer  of  Wentworth  in  Strafford,  who  even 
tries  to  save  his  life.  She  appears  frequently  throughout 
the  play. 

Luigi.  The  young  Italian  who  is  about  to  betray  his 
country,  in  Pippa  Passes. 

Luitolfo.     The  friend  of  Chiappino  and  the  lover  of 


198  Luria. 

Eulalia,  in  A  Soul's  Tragedy,  who  defends  Chiappino  only 
to  be  betrayed  by  him. 

Luria.  A  Tragedy.  Published  first  in  number  eight 
of  Sells  and  Pomegranates,  1846,  when  the  title  was  Luria. 
A  Tragedy  in  Five  Acts.  Time  14 — •  In  Poetical  Works, 
1863,  in  second  volume,  with  Tragedies  and  Other  Plays. 
See  Bells  and  Pomegranates  for  other  particulars  of  the 
publication  of  this  play. 

The  struggle  between  Florence  and  Pisa,  by  which,  in 
1406,  Pisa  came  under  the  dominion  of  her  rival,  is  the  his- 
torical subject  of  this  play.  The  historical  events  are  not 
closely  followed,  and  are  merely  a  framework  for  the  poem. 
Located  at  the  mouth  of  the  Arno,  Pisa  controlled  the  com- 
merce of  Florence  in  a  measure,  and  became  a  formidable 
rival  of  that  city.  During  the  fierce  war  between  Florence 
and  Milan,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fifteenth  century,  Pisa 
came  under  the  control  of  Milan.  In  1406  Milan  sold  Pisa 
to  Florence,  thus  withdrawing  its  own  support  from  the  city 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Arno.  Then  Florence  made  a  vigorous 
effort  to  reduce  its  new  possession  to  submission. 

In  his  Florentine  History  Napier  gives  an  extended  ac- 
count of  the  capture  of  Pisa,  which  may  be  condensed  in 
this  way  :  "  The  acquisition  of  Pisa  was  a  serious  affair  at 
Florence,  and  great  efforts  were  made  to  secure  it.  ... 
Her  army  was  first  commanded  by  Jacopo  Salviati,  a  Flor- 
entine citizen,  who  after  some  useful  and  active  service  was 
superseded  by  Bertoldo  degli  Orsini ;  but  this  general  show- 
ing more  rapacity  than  soldiership  displeased  the  Floren- 
tines, and  was  ordered  to  resign  his  command  to  Obizzo  da 
Monte  Carelli.  Active  military  operations  had  continued 
through  the  autumn  of  1405,  and  when  the  camp  was 
pitched  before  Pisa,  almost  all  its  territory  had  been  sub- 
dued. .  .  .  After  this  the  growing  rivalry  of  Sforza  and 
Tartaglia  began  to  trouble  the  camp  so  much  that  they 
were  placed  by  order  of  the  Seigniory  in  distinct  and  dis- 
tant commands,  with  their  separate  forces,  for  in  those  days 
armies  were  like  a  piece  of  patchwork,  composed  of  man}' 
small  independent  bands,  with  but  little  subordination 
amongst  any  who  were  strong  enough  to  be  troublesome, 
unless  awed  by  high  rank  or  the  acknowledged  fame  of 
some  able  chieftain.  .  .  .  As  famine  was  still  eating  on  its 


Lurid.  199 

silent  way  Gambacorta  [one  of  the  Pisan  leaders]  secretly 
renewed  the  negotiations  with  Gino  Capponi  and  finally 
consented  to  a  capitulation.  .  .  .  After  this  resolute  con- 
duct Gino  repaired  to  Florence  and  explained  all  to  the 
Seigniory.  .  .  .  Gino  Capponi  and  Bartolommeo  Corbinelli 
were  appointed  public  syndics  to  complete  the  transac- 
tion. .  .  .  Gino  then  took  possession  of  the  public  palace 
and  commenced  Florentine  rule." 

It  will  be  seen  that  not  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Floren- 
tine forces  was  a  Moor,  though  mercenaries  were  employed 
by  the  Italian  cities  at  this  time.  The  play  is  based  on  cer- 
tain historical  details,  however,  for  in  Sapio  Amminato's 
Florentine  History  it  is  related  :  "  And  when  all  was  ready, 
the  expedition  marched  to  the  gates  of  Pisa,  under  the  com- 
mand of  Conte  Bartoldo  Orsini,  a  Ventusian  captain,  in  the 
Florentine  service,  accompanied  by  Filippo  di  Megalotti, 
Rinaldo  di  Gian  Figliazzi,  and  Maso  degli  Albizzi,  in  the 
character  of  commissaries  of  the  commonwealth.  For  al- 
though we  have  every  confidence  in  the  honor  and  fidelity 
of  our  general,  you  see  it  is  always  well  to  be  on  the  safe  side. 
And  in  the  matter  of  receiving  possession  of  a  city  .  .  . 
these  nobles  with  the  old  feudal  names !  We  know  the  ways 
of  them !  An  Orsini  might  be  as  bad  in  Pisa  as  a  Visconti, 
so  we  might  as  well  send  some  of  our  own  people  to  be  on 
the  spot.  The  three  commissaries,  therefore,  accompanied 
the  Florentine  general  to  Pisa." 

The  intriguing  spirit  which  constantly  hindered  Luria, 
and  the  secret  attack  upon  him  even  when  he  was  victo- 
rious, and  in  order  that  he  might  gain  no  personal  benefit 
from  success,  were  of  the  essence  of  the  political  life  of  the 
period.  In  these  general  characteristics  the  play  is  histori- 
cal, but  not  in  its  use  of  names  and  particular  events. 

In  Act  I.  of  the  play,  at  the  bottom  of  page  364  in  the 
Riverside  edition,  Braccio  and  the  secretary  discuss  the 
front  of  the  Duomo  in  Florence,  and  the  secretary  says  :  — 

"  Lady  Domizia 

Spoke  of  the  unfinished  Duomo,  you  remember ; 
That  is  his  [Luria' s]  fancy  how  a  Moorish  front 
Might  join  to,  and  complete  the  body." 

Browning   appears  to  have  been  struck,  in   studying  the 
Dnomo,  with  an  idea  that  a  Moorish  front  would  best  com- 


200  Mary  Wollstonecraft  and  Fuseli. 

plete  it.  It  has  been  discovered  by  Mr.  Earnest  Radford, 
in  exploring  a  small  museum  in  Florence,  that  one  design 
offered  had  actually  thus  planned  the  completion  of  the 
building.  See  Browning  Bibliography,  and  number  two 
of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  1 :  251. 

See  Alexander.  In  Poet-Lore,  1  :  553  and  2  :  19,  is  a 
valuable  historical  and  analytical  study  of  the  poem,  by 
Prof.  Henry  S.  Pancoast,  from  which  the  above  extract 
from  Amminato  is  taken.  In  his  Stories  from  Robert 
Browning,  Mr.  F.  M.  Holland  tells  the  story  of  the  play  in 
prose.  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  1 :  125*. 

Madhouse  Cells.  This  was  the  general  title  given  in 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegran- 
ates, 1842,  to  I.  Johannes  Agricola.  II.  Porphyria.  The 
first  of  these  was  printed  in  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  as 
Johannes  Agricola  in  Meditation,  and  the  second  as  Por- 
phyria's  Lover. 

Magical  Nature.  Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems, 
1876. 

Malcrais.  The  name  of  Paul  Desforges  Maillard  in  Two 
Poets  of  Croisic,  when  he  assumed  the  character  of  his  sis- 
ter in  sending  poems  to  the  Mercure. 

Man  I  am  and  man  would  be,  Love.  The  opening 
words  of  the  fourth  lyric  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

Marching  Along.  First  published  in  Dramatic  Ly- 
rics, third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1842,  as 
I.  of  Cavalier  Tunes,  which  see.  Poems,  1849  ;  Lyrics, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Martin  Relph.     Dramatic  Idyls,  First  Series,  1879. 

An  indistinct  remembrance,  of  something  heard  by  the 
poet  when  a  boy,  gave  origin  to  this  story  in  verse.  The 
speaker  is  a  grandson  of  a  man  who  saw  Martin  Relph  as 
an  old  man,  and  he  tells  the  story  as  it  was  repeated  to  him 
by  his  grandfather. 

Mary  "Wollstonecraft  and  Fuseli.     Jocoseria,  1883. 

Mary  Wollstonecraft  was  the  author  of  the  Rights  of 
Woman,  the  wife  of  William  Godwin,  and  the  mother  of 
Shelley's  second  wife.  She  was  born  in  1759  and  died  in 
1797.  Fuseli  was  born  in  Switzerland  in  1741,  but  he  lived 
in  England  after  1761.  He  was  a  mediocre  painter,  but  he 
gave  lectures  on  art  which  were  published  as  Lectures  on 


Mary  Wolistonecraft  and  Fuseli.  201 

Painting,  and  gained  him  some  reputation.  He  also  pub- 
lished a  History  of  Arts,  and  other  works.  He  died  in 
1825. 

In  the  poem  Mary  Wolistonecraft  is  addressing  Fuseli, 
and  pouring  out  to  him  her  passionate  and  unrequited  love. 
This  scene  is  probably  based  on  the  biography  of  Fuseli 
written  by  Knowles,  or  on  Godwin's  Memoirs  of  his  wife. 
This  incident  is  thus  described  by  Godwin :  "  She  saw  Mr. 
Fuseli  frequently ;  he  amu&ed,  delighted,  and  instructed 
her.  As  a  painter,  it  was  impossible  she  should  not  wish 
to  see  his  works,  and  consequently  to  frequent  his  house. 
She  visited  him ;  her  visits  were  returned.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  inequality  of  their  years,  Mary  was  not  of  a  temper 
to  live  upon  terms  of  so  much  intimacy  with  a  man  of  merit 
and  genius,  without  loving  him.  The  delight  she  enjoyed 
in  his  society,  she  transferred  by  association  to  his  person. 
What  she  experienced  in  this  respect,  was  no  doubt  height- 
ened by  the  state  of  celibacy  and  restraint  in  which  she  had 
hitherto  lived.  She  conceived  a  personal  and  ardent  affec- 
tion for  him.  Mr.  Fuseli  was  a  married  man,  and  his  wife 
the  acquaintance  of  Mary.  She  readily  perceived  the  re- 
strictions which  this  circumstance  seemed  to  impose  upon 
her ;  but  she  made  light  of  any  difficulty  that  might  arise 
out  of  them.  .  .  .  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that,  if  Mr. 
Fuseli  had  been  disengaged  at  the  period  of  their  acquaint- 
ance, he  would  have  been  the  man  of  her  choice.  As  it  was, 
she  conceived  it  both  practicable  and  eligible  to  cultivate  a 
distinguishing  affection  for  him,  and  to  foster  it  by  the  en- 
dearments of  personal  intercourse  and  a  reciprocation  of 
kindness." 

Knowles,  in  his  Life  of  Fuseli,  goes  even  farther  than 
this,  and  represents  Mary  as  being  importunate  in  her  love, 
and  passionately  so.  She  wrote  to  Fuseli  frequently,  she 
pursued  him  with  her  affection,  and  when  he  was  cold  and 
indifferent,  she  boldly  went  to  Mrs.  Fuseli,  and  asked  to  be- 
come a  member  of  the  family,  that  she  might  be  constantly 
near  the  man  whom  she  loved,  and  whose*  presence  was 
necessary  to  her  existence.  Mrs.  Fuseli  drove  her  from  the 
house  ;  and  then  it  was  Maiy  Wolistonecraft  went  to  France. 

The  recent  students  of  the  life  of  Mary  Wolistonecraft 
deny  the  truthfulness  of  these  stories  of  Godwin  and 


202          Master  Hugues.  —  May  and  Death. 

Knowles.  Mr.  C.  Kegan  Paul,  in  his  William  Godwin: 
His  Friends  and  Contemporaries,  entirely  repudiates  them. 
He  says  that  Knowles  "  is  so  extremely  inaccurate  in  regard 
to  all  else  he  says  of  her,  that  his  testimony  may  be  wholly 
set  aside,"  and  that  "  the  correspondence  and  the  uninter- 
rupted friendship  with  Mrs.  Fuseli  would  seem  wholly  to 
clear  Mary  Wollstonecraft's  memory  from  the  imputation 
of  any  feeling  for  Fuseli  in  which  there  is  reason  for  blame 
even  by  the  most  censorious."  In  her  Life  of  Mary  Woll- 
stonecraft  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Robins  Pennell  says  :  "  Her  char- 
acter is  the  best  refutation  of  Knowles's  charges.  She  was 
too  proud  to  demean  herself  to  any  man.  She  was  too 
sensitive  to  slights  to  risk  the  repulses  he  says  she  accepted. 
And  since  always  before  and  after  this  period  she  had  no- 
thing more  at  heart  than  the  happiness  of  others,  it  is  not 
likely  that  she  would  have  deliberately  tried  to  step  in  be- 
tween Fuseli  and  his  wife,  and  gain  at  the  latter's  expense 
her  own  ends.  She  could  not  have  changed  her  character 
in  a  day.  She  never  played  fast  and  loose  with  her  princi- 
ples. The  testimony  of  her  actions  is  her  acquittal." 

Master  Hugues  of  Saxe-Gotha.  Men  and  Women, 
1855.  Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Hugues  is  an  imaginary  composer.  —  Saxe-Gotha  is  a 
duchy  in  the  central  part  of  the  German  Empire.  —  Pales- 
trina  was  a  great  Italian  composer  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
who  produced  a  revolution  in  the  character  of  church  music, 
and  gave  to  the  music  of  the  Catholic  church  its  tone  and 
character. 

May  and  Death.  First  printed  in  The  Keepsake, 
1857,  published  in  London  by  David  Bogue,  and  edited  by 
Miss  Power.  Reprinted  in  Dramatis  Personce,  1864,  with 
new  readings. 

Mrs.  Orr  says  :  "  This  poem  was  a  personal  utterance, 
provoked  by  the  death  of  a  relative  whom  Mr.  Browning 
dearly  loved."  The  plant  described  in  the  fourth  stanza 
is  commented  upon  "in  The  Browning  Society's  Papers. 
"  Surely  the  Polygonum  Persicaria,  or  Spotted  Persicaria, 
is  the  plant  alluded  to.  It  is  a  common  weed  with  purple 
stains  upon  its  rather  large  leaves  ;  these  spots  varying  in 
size  and  vividness  of  color,  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
soil  where  it  grows.  A  legend  attaches  to  this  plant  and 


Meeting  at  Night.  —  Memorabilia.  203 

attributes  these  stains  to  the  blood  of  Christ  having  fallen 
on  its  leaves,  growing  below  the  cross." 

Meeting  at  Night.  This  poem  and  its  sequel,  Parting 
at  Morning,  were  published  in  Dramatic  Romances  and 
Lyrics,  the  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  in 
1845  ;  and  they  appeared  there  under  the  general  title  of 
Night  and  Morning,  while  the  first  was  called  Night,  and 
the  second  Morning.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  the 
present  titles  were  assigned  to  these  poems. 

In  each  of  these  short  poems  the  speaker  is  a  man,  who 
goes  at  night  from  his  daily  duties  among  men,  to  the  love 
and  the  quiet  peace  of  his  home  and  the  woman  he  loves. 
In  the  morning  he  returns  to  the  tasks  of  the  day,  and  to 
take  part  in  the  world's  work,  because  he  feels  the  need 
of  contact  with  men.  If  the  poem  has  any  didactic  mean- 
ing, it  is  that  the  love  which  the  home  gives,  and  the  tasks 
which  come  through  contact  with  men,  mutually  sustain 
each  other. 

Melon-Seller,  The.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

The  Prime  Minister  of  the  Shah  become  a  seller  of 
melons  is  probably  borrowed  from  Job.  The  sentence  in 
Hebrew,  which  is  given  in  English  immediately  after  as  a 
"  Persian  phrase,"  is  taken  from  Job,  and  is  a  summing  up 
of  the  philosophy  of  that  ancient  thinker  on  the  problem  of 
evil.  —  Ispahan  is  a  leading  city  of  Persia.  —  Nishapur 
(Nishapoor)  is  a  small  city  in  the  province  of  Khorassan.  — 
Elbruz  is  a  mountain  in  the  range  of  the  same  name,  which 
runs  parallel  with  the  southern  shore  of  the  Caspian  sea. 

Memorabilia.  Men  and  Women,  1855,  where  the  title 
was  Memorabilia  (on  seeing  Shelley).  Lyrics,  1863,  with 
that  part  of  title  in  parenthesis  omitted  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics, 
1868.  Composed  on  the  Campagna  in  the  winter  of  1853-54. 
It  was  about  1825  that  Browning  became  acquainted  with 
the  poetry  of  Shelley,  and  it  had  a  remarkable  effect  upon 
him.  It  quickened  his  poetical  life,  and  gave  him  new  con- 
ceptions of  beauty.  From  that  time  he  was  an  ardent  ad- 
mirer of  Shelley,  Pauline  being  written  under  the  influence 
of  this  inspiration.  Shelley  is  also  mentioned  in  Sordello, 
Cenciaja,  and  the  Introductory  Essay  to  what  proved  to 
be  spurious  letters.  In  his  paper  on  the  early  writings  of 
Browning,  now  published  in  Personalia,  Mr.  Gosse,  after 


204  Memorabilia. 

speaking  of  his  earliest  poem,  says  :  "  At  the  time  they  were 
written  he  was  entirely  under  the  influence  of  Byron,  and 
his  verse  was  so  full  and  melodious  that  Mr.  Fox  confessed, 
long  afterward,  that  he  had  thought  that  his  snare  would  be 
a  too  gorgeous  scale  of  language  and  tenuity  of  thought, 
concealed  by  metrical  audacity.  But  about  a  year  after 
this,  an  event  revolutionized  Robert  Browning's  whole  con- 
ception of  poetic  art.  There  came  into  his  hands  a  miser- 
able pirated  edition  of  part  of  Shelley's  works ;  the  window 
was  dull,  but  he  looked  through  it  into  an  enchanted  garden. 
He  was  impatient  to  walk  there  himself,  but,  in  1825,  it 
was  by  no  means  easy  to  obtain  the  books  of  Shelley.  No 
bookseller  that  was  applied  to  knew  the  name,  although 
Shelley  had  been  dead  three  years.  At  last,  inquiry  was 
made  of  the  editor  of  the  Literary  Gazette,  and  it  was  re- 
plied that  the  books  in  question  could  be  obtained  of  C.  & 
J.  Oilier,  of  Vere  street.  To  Vere  street,  accordingly,  Mrs. 
Browning  proceeded,  and  brought  back  as  a  present  for  her 
son,  not  only  all  the  works  of  Shelley,  but  three  volumes 
written  by  a  Mr.  John  Keats,  which  were  recommended  to 
her  as  being  very  much  in  the  spirit  of  Mr.  Shelley.  A 
bibliophile  of  to-day  is  almost  dazed  in  thinking  of  the  prize 
which  the  unconscious  lady  brought  back  with  her  to  Cam- 
berwell.  There  was  the  Pisa  Adonais  in  its  purple  paper 
cover  ;  there  was  Epipsychidion,  —  in  short,  all  the  books 
she  bought  were  still  in  their  first  edition,  except  The  Cenci, 
which  professed  to  be  in  the  second.  .  .  .  Well,  the  dust  of 
the  dead  Keats  and  Shelley  turned  to  flower-seed  in  the 
brain  of  the  young  poet,  and  very  soon  wrought  a  change 
in  the  whole  of  his  ambition." 

In  a  letter  written  in  1886,  and  quoted  by  Kingsland, 
Browning  says  :  "  As  for  the  early  editions  of  Shelley,  they 
were  obtained  for  me  sometime  before  1830  (or  even 
earlier),  in  the  regular  way,  from  Hunt  and  Clarke,  in  con- 
sequence of  a  direction  I  obtained  from  the  Literary  Ga- 
zette. I  still  possess  Posthumous  Poems,  but  have  long 
since  parted  with  Prometheus  Bound,  Rosalind  and  Helen, 
Six  Weeks'  Tour,  Cenci,  and  the  Adonais.  I  got  at  the 
same  time,  nearly,  Endymion,  and  Lamia,  etc.,  as  if  they 
had  been  published  a  week  before,  and  not  years  after  the 
death  of  Keats." 

See  Corson,  Kingsland,  and  Sharp. 


Men  and  Women.  205 

i 

Men  and  Women.  Published  by  Chapman  and  Hall, 
193,  Picadilly,  London,  1855,  in  two  volumes.  The  poems 
were  written  during  the  years  from  1848  to  the  time  of  pub- 
lication in  London  and  Florence.  The  contents  were  as 
follows :  — 

Volume  I.  Love  among  the  Ruins  ;  A  Lover's  Quarrel ; 
Evelyn  Hope ;  Up  at  a  Villa  —  Down  in  the  City ;  A 
Woman's  Last  Word ;  Fra  Lippo  Lippi ;  A  Toccata  of 
Galuppi's  ;  By  the  Fire-Side  ;  Any  Wife  to  any  Husband  ; 
An  Epistle  concerning  the  Strange  Medical  Experience  of 
Karshish,  the  Arab  Physician ;  Mesmerism ;  A  Serenade 
at  the  Villa  ;  My  Star  ;  Instans  Tyrannus  ;  A  Pretty  Wo- 
man ;  Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came ;  Respecta- 
bility ;  A  Light  Woman ;  The  Statue  and  the  Bust ;  Love 
in  a  Life ;  Life  in  a  Love  ;  How  it  strikes  a  Contemporary ; 
The  Last  Ride  Together  ;  The  Patriot ;  Master  Hugues  of 
Saxe-Gotha ;  Bishop  Blougram's  Apology  ;  Memorabilia. 
Pages  i.-iv.,  1-260. 

Volume  II.  Andrea  del  Sarto  (Called  the  Faultless 
Painter) ;  Before  ;  After ;  In  Three  Days  ;  In  a  Year  ; 
Old  Pictures  in  Florence  ;  In  a  Balcony ;  Saul ;  "  De 
Gustibus  "  ;  Women  and  Roses  ;  Protus  ;  Holy -Cross  Day  ; 
The  Guardian  Angel,  a  Picture  at  Fano ;  Cleon  ;  The 
Twins ;  Popularity ;  The  Heretic's  Tragedy ;  A  Middle- 
Age  Interlude ;  Two  in  the  Campagna ;  A  Grammarian's 
Funeral ;  One  Way  of  Love ;  Another  Way  of  Love ; 
"  Transcendentalism  :  a  Poem  in  Twelve  Books  "  ;  Miscon- 
ceptions ;  One  Word  More  :  To  E.  B.  B.  Pages,  i.-iv.,  1— 
241. 

When  Browning  published  his  Poetical  Works,  in  1863, 
he  made  a  new  distribution  of  his  poems,  and  only  the  fol- 
lowing were  classed  under  the  head  of  Men  and  Women. 

Transcendentalism ;  How  it  Strikes  a  Contemporary ; 
Artemis  Prologizes ;  An  Epistle  containing  the  Strange 
Medical  Experience  of  Karshish,  the  Arab  Physician ;  Pic- 
tor  Ignotus ;  Fra  Lippo  Lippi ;  Andrea  del  Sarto  ;  The 
Bishop  orders  his  Tomb  at  St.  Praxed's  Church ;  Bishop 
Blougram's  Apology ;  Cleon ;  Rudel  to  the  Lady  of  Tripoli ; 
One  Word  More. 

Some  of  these  poems  did  not  belong  to  the  original  edition 
of  Men  and  Women,  and  in  1863  were  classed  under  this 


206  Mesmerism.  —  Mihrab  /Shah. 

head  for  the  first  time.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1868 
Johannes  Agricola  in  Meditation  was  added  to  the  above  ; 
and  in  all  later  editions  these  thirteen  poems  have  been 
classed  under  the  head  of  Men  and  Women. 

See  Bentley's  Magazine,  39  :  64 ;  The  British  Quar- 
terly Review,  23  :  151 ;  The  Dublin  University  Review, 
47  :  673  ;  Fraser's  Magazine,  53  :  105  ;  The  Westminster 
Review,  65  :  920. 

Mesmerism.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  See  Mrs.  Orr 
for  a  brief  interpretation.  Mr.  Symons  says  that  "  the  in- 
tense absorption,  the  breathless  eagerness  of  the  mesmerist, 
are  rendered,  in  a  manner  truly  marvelous,  by  the  breath- 
less and  yet  measured  race  of  the  verses." 

Mihrab  Shah.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

Mihrab  Sliah  is  an  invention  of  the  poet's.  He  directly 
refers  in  this  poem  to  Firdusi,  and  questions  the  truthfulness 
of  his  tales.  Like  all  the  true  epics,  such  as  the  Iliad  and 
the  Nibelungen,  the  Shah  Nameh  is  based  on  legend,  but 
legend  that  has  in  it  an  element  of  truth.  Most  of  its  char- 
acters are  historical,  but  their  deeds  have  become  distorted 
and  exaggerated  through  the  process  of  legendary  growth. 
On  this  point  Miss  Zimmern  says,  in  the  introduction  to 
her  Heroic  Tales  :  "  Adumbrated  by  poetical  and  popular 
legends,  we  learn  in  the  Shah  Nameh  the  wars  of  the 
peoples  that  succeeded  each  other  in  the  Persian  Empire. 
Thus  the  history  of  Zohak  probably  represents  the  invasion 
of  some  Semitic  people  into  Iran  ;  the  combat  of  the  de- 
scendants of  Tur  against  those  of  Irij  signifies  the  long  wars 
waged  by  the  Persian  kings  against  the  Tartar  and  Scythian 
peoples  of  the  north,  wars  signalized  by  many  vicissitudes. 
And  this  Zohak  is  held  by  some  to  be  the  Nimrod  of  the 
Hebrews ;  Hai  Khosrau  is  identified  as  the  Cyrus  of  the 
Greeks ;  Gushtasp,  the  Darius  Hystaspes ;  Isfendiyar,  the 
Xerxes ;  while  the  fabulous  lengths  of  the  reigns  of  the 
various  kings  are  held  to  represent  periods  in  the  history  of 
Persia.  This  may  be  so,  but  it  is  best  to  regard  the  Shah 
Rameh  once  for  all  as  history  clouded  by  fable,  and  to  dis- 
miss its  earlier  half  as  being  as  historically  obscure  as  the 
time  that  preceded  the  Trojan  war." 

The  Simorgh  (Simurgh)  is  a  fabulous  creature  of  Persian 
mythology,  noted  for  its  benevolence  and  its  ability  to  be- 


Mr.  Sludge,  "  The  Medium."  207 

stow  magical  powers.  It  is  supposed  to  have  been  the 
origin  of  the  griffin,  which  found  its  way  into  Europe 
through  the  Arabs  of  Spain,  but  got  transformed  from  a 
beneficent  being  to  a  terrible  beast.  Atkinson  says  of  this 
being :  "  The  sex  of  this  fabulous  animal  is  not  clearly  made 
out.  It  tells  Zal  [in  the  Shah  NartieJi}  that  it  had  nursed 
him  like  a  father,  though  the  preserver  of  young  ones  might 
authorize  its  being  considered  a  female.  The  Simurgh  is 
probably  neither  one  nor  the  other,  or  both.  Some  have 
likened  the  Sirnurgh  to  the  Hippogriff  or  Griffin,  but  the 
Simurgh  is  plainly  a  biped ;  others  again  have  supposed 
that  the  fable  simply  meant  a  holy  recluse  of  the  mountains, 
who  nourished  and  educated  the  poor  child  which  had  been 
abandoned  by  its  father."  The  reference  here  is  to  the 
abandonment  of  Zal  by  his  father  Sam,  and  to  his  being 
nourished  and  brought  up  by  the  Simorgh.  He  was  aban- 
doned because  of  his  white  hair,  white  being  the  color  of 
evil  to  the  Persians. 

Mildred  Tresham.  The  young  girl  in  A  Blot  on  The 
'Scutcheon  who  is  beloved  by  Lord  Henry  Mertoun,  who 
secretly  receives  his  visits.  When  discovered  he  is  stabbed 
by  her  brother  Earl  Tresham,  and  she  dies  heart-broken. 

Misconceptions.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  In  Poet- 
ical Works  of  1863  classed  under  Lyrics  ;  in  1868  Dra- 
matic Lyrics.  Set  to  music  by  E.  C.  Gregory  ;  London, 
Novello,  Ewer  &  Co.  Also  by  Georgiana  Schuyler,  under 
the  title  This  is  a  Spray  the  Bird  clung  to ;  New  York, 
G.  Schirmer. 

Mr.  Gigadibs.  The  young  literary  man  in  Bishop 
Blougram's  Apology,  to  whom  the  bishop  is  speaking,  and 
who  has  questioned  his  honesty  and  consistency  in  being  a 
Churchman. 

Mr.  Sludge,  "  The  Medium."  Dramatis  Personce, 
1864. 

An  interpretation  of  American  spiritualism  on  one  side 
of  it,  that  of  imposture  and  credulity.  It  was  probably 
suggested  by  the  career  of  D.  D.  Home.  Browning  gave 
much  attention  to  spiritualism  during  several  years,  his 
wife  being  a  strong  believer  in  it.  Miss  M.  R.  Mitford 
wrote  that  "  Mrs.  Browning  believes  in  every  spirit-rapping 
story  ;  "  and  that  she  "  is  positively  crazy  about  the  spirit- 


208  Muckle-Mbuth  Meg. 

rappings."  Her  cousin,  Henry  Chorley,  said  that  "  she 
lent  an  ear  as  credulous  as  her  trust  was  sincere  and  her 
heart  high-minded  "  to  the  claims  of  mesmerism  and  clair- 
voyance. See  Mr.  John  H.  Ingram's  Biography  of  Mrs. 
Browning,  page  207,  for  an  account  of  her  interest  in  these 
subjects.  Browning  was  much  less  interested  in  spiritual- 
ism than  was  his  wife,  and  he  was  inclined  to  doubt. 

This  is  clearly  shown  in  Hawthorne's  French  and  Ital- 
ian Note-Books,  where,  under  date  of  June  9,  1858,  record 
is  made  of  a  conversation  very  significant  with  reference  to 
this  poem,  which  was  written  not  long  after  that  time :  — 

"  There  was  no  very  noteworthy  conversation  ;  the  most 
interesting  topic  being  that  disagreeable  and  now  wearisome 
one  of  spiritual  communications,  as  regards  which  Mrs. 
Browning  is  a  believer,  and  her  husband  an  infidel.  Brown- 
ing and  his  wife  had  both  been  present  at  a  spiritual  ses- 
sion held  by  Mr.  Home,  and  had  seen  and  felt  the  unearthly 
hands,  one  of  which  had  placed  a  laurel  wreath  on  Mrs. 
Browning's  head.  Browning,  however,  avowed  his  belief 
that  these  hands  were  affixed  to  the  feet  of  Mr.  Home,  who 
lay  extended  in  his  chair,  with  his  legs  stretched  far  under 
the  table.  The  marvelousness  of  the  fact,  as  I  have  read 
of  it,  and  heard  it  from  other  eye-witnesses,  melted  strangely 
away  in  his  hearty  gripe,  and  at  the  sharp  touch  of  his 
logic ;  while  his  wife,  ever  and  anon,  put  in  a  little  gentle 
word  of  expostulation."  See  The  Browning  Society's  Pa- 
pers, number  seven,  2:13  and  2  :  45*  :  for  an  extended  study 
of  the  poem,  by  Edwin  Johnson. 

Muckle-mouth  Meg.    Asolando,  1889. 

The  story  told  in  this  poem  is  to  be  found  in  Sir  Thomas 
Dick  Lauder's  .Scottish  Rivers,  and  probably  in  other 
works.  It  is  there  told  as  follows  :  "  A  feud  had  for  some 
time  existed  between  the  Murray s  and  the  Scotts.  In  pros- 
ecution of  this,  William  Scott,  son  of  the  head  of  the  family 
of  Harden,  stole,  with  his  followers,  from  his  Border 
strength  of  Oakwood  Tower  on  the  river  Ettrick,  to  lead 
them  on  a  foray  against  Sir  Gideon  [Murray]  of  Elibank. 
But  Sir  Gideon  was  too  much  on  his  guard  for  his  enemies, 
and  having  fallen  on  them  as  they  were  driving  off  the 
cattle,  he  defeated  them,  took  them  prisoners,  and  recov- 
ered the  spoil.  His  lady  having  met  him  on  his  return, 


Muleykeh.  209 

and  congratulated  him  on  his  success,  ventured  to  ask  him 
what  he  was  going  to  do  with  young  Harden.  '  Why,  strap 
him  up  to  the  gallows-tree,  to  be  sure,'  replied  Sir  Gideon. 
'  Hout  na,  Sir  Gideon,'  said  the  considerate  matron,  '  would 
you  hang  the  winsome  young  Laird  of  Harden,  when  you 
have  three  ill-favored  daughters  to  marry  ?  '  '  Right,'  an- 
swered the  baron,  '  he  shall  either  marry  our  daughter 
mickle-mouthed  Meg,  or  he  shall  strap  for  it.'  When  this 
alternative  was  proposed  to  the  prisoner,  he  at  first  stoutly 
preferred  the  gibbet  to  the  lady  ;  but  as  he  was  led  out  to 
the  fatal  tree  for  immediate  execution,  the  question  began 
to  wear  a  different  aspect,  and  life,  even  with  mickle- 
mouthed  Meg,  seemed  to  have  a  certain  sunshine  about  it 
very  different  from  the  darkness  of  the  tomb  to  which  the 
gallows  would  have  so  immediately  assigned  him.  He  mar- 
ried Meg,  and  an  excellent  wife  she  made  him,  and  they 
lived  for  many  years  a  happy  couple,  and  Sir  Walter  Scott 
came  by  descent  from  this  marriage.  Would  we  could 
transfer  to  these  pages  the  animated  sketch  of  this  scene 
made  by  Mr.  Charles  Kirkpatrick  Sharpe,  which,  we  be- 
lieve, hangs  at  Abbotsford,  where  a  few  bold  lines  so  per- 
fectly convey  the  whole  humor,  not  only  of  the  subject,  but 
of  the  individual  characters,  as  to  leave  all  verbal  descrip- 
tion quite  in  the  background."  Muclde  and  mickle  have 
the  same  meaning,  that  of  magnitude. 

Muleykeh.     Dramatic  Idyls,  Second  Series,  1880. 

This  story  is  told  in  The  Horse  and  his  Rider ;  or 
Sketches  and  Anecdotes  of  the  Noble  Quadruped,  by 
Hollo  Springfield  ;  but  no  reference  is  made  to  its  source. 
It  is  undoubtedly  this  anecdote  of  the  Bedouins  which 
Browning  has  made  the  basis  of  his  poem,  changing  the 
names,  and  retelling  the  story  in  a  manner  to  secure  the 
best  dramatic  effect. 

"  A  Bedouin,  named  Jabal,  possessed  a  mare  of  great 
celebrity.  Hassad  Pacha,  then  governor  of  Damascus, 
wished  to  buy  the  animal,  and  repeatedly  made  the  owner 
the  most  liberal  offers,  which  Jabal  steadily  refused.  The 
pacha  then  had  recourse  to  threats,  but  with  no  better  suc- 
cess. At  length  one  Gafar,  a  Bedouin  of  another  tribe, 
presented  himself  to  the  pacha,  and  asked  what  he  would 
give  the  man  who  should  make  him  master  of  Jabal's  mare. 


210  Muleykeh. 

1 1  would  fill  his  horse's  nose-bag  with  gold,'  replied  Has- 
sad,  whose  pride  and  covetousness  had  been  irritated  to  the 
highest  degree  by  the  obstinacy  of  the  mare's  owner.  The 
result  of  this  interview  having  gone  abroad,  Jabal  became 
more  watchful  than  ever ;  and  always  secured  his  mare  at 
night  with  an  iron  chain,  one  end  of  which  was  fastened 
round  her  hind  fetlock,  whilst  the  other,  after  passing 
through  the  tent  cloth,  was  attached  to  a  picket  driven  into 
the  ground  under  the  felt  that  served  himself  and  his  wife 
for  a  bed.  But  one  midnight  Gafar  crept  into  the  tent,  and, 
insinuating  his  body  between  Jabal  and  his  wife,  he  pressed 
gently  now  against  the  one,  now  against  the  other,  so  that 
the  sleepers  made  room  for  him  right  and  left,  neither  of 
them  doubting  that  the  pressure  came  from  the  other. 
This  being  done,  Gafar  slit  the  felt  with  a  sharp  knife, 
drew  out  the  picket,  loosed  the  mare,  and  sprang  on  her 
back.  Just  before  starting  off  with  his  prize,  he  caught  up 
Jabal's  lance,  and  poking  him  with  the  butt  end,  cried  out, 
4 1  am  Gafar !  I  have  stolen  your  noble  mare,  and  I  give 
you  notice  in  time.'  This  warning,  be  it  observed,  was  in 
accordance  with  the  usual  practice  of  the  desert  on  such 
occasions  ;  to  rob  a  hostile  tribe  is  considered  an  honorable 
exploit,  and  the  man  who  accomplishes  it  is  desirous  of  all 
the  glory  that  may  flow  from  the  deed.  Poor  Jabal,  when 
he  heard  the  words,  rushed  out  of  the  tent  and  gave  the 
alarm  ;  then  mounting  his  brother's  mare,  and  accompanied 
by  some  of  his  tribe,  he  pursued  the  robber  for  four  hours. 
The  brother's  mare  was  of  the  same  stock  as  Jabal's,  but 
was  not  equal  to  her ;  nevertheless,  she  outstripped  those  of 
all  the  other  pursuers,  and  was  even  on  the  point  of  over- 
taking the  robber,  when  Jabal  shouted  to  him,  '  Pinch  her 
right  ear,  and  give  her  a  touch  of  the  heel.'  Gafar  did  so, 
and  away  went  the  mare  like  lightning,  speedily  rendering 
all  farther  pursuit  hopeless.  The  pinch  in  the  ear  and  the 
touch  with  the  heel  were  the  secret  signs  by  which  Jabal 
had  been  used  to  urge  the  mare  to  her  utmost  speed.  Every 
Bedouin  trains  the  animals  he  rides  to  obey  some  sign  of 
this  kind,  to  which  he  has  recourse  only  on  urgent  occasions, 
not  to  be  divulged  even  to  his  son.  Jabal's  comrades  were 
amazed  and  indignant  at  this  strange  conduct ;  '  O  thou 
father  of  a  jackass  ! '  they  cried,  '  thou  hast  helped  the 


My  Last  Duchess.  —  The  Names.  211 

thief  to  rob  thee  of  thy  jewel ! '  But  he  silenced  their  up- 
hraidings  by  saying,  '  I  would  rather  lose  her  than  sully  her 
reputation.  Would  you  have  me  suffer  it  to  be  said  among 
the  tribes,  that  another  mare  had  proved  fleeter  than  mine  ? 
I  have  at  least  this  comfort  left  me,  that  I  can  say  she 
never  met  with  her  match.'  " 

My  Last  Duchess  —  Perrara.  First  printed  in  Dra- 
matic Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates, 
1842,  where  it  was  called  Italy,  being  I.  under  the  gen- 
eral title  of  Italy  and  France.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of 
1863  it  appeared  among  the  Romances  with  the  present 
title  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

Fra  Pandolf  and  his  picture,  Glaus  of  Innsb'.'uck,  and 
the  bronze  Neptune  taming  a  sea-horse  are  creations  of  the 
poet. 

My  Star.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics,  1863 ; 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

This  poem  is  said  to  be  a  tribute  to  Mrs.  Browning. 
Professor  Corson  has  pointed  out  its  resemblance  to  a  part 
of  the  fifty-fifth  section  of  Fifine  at  the  Fair,  which  ex- 
pands the  same  idea.  See  Rolfe's  Select  Poems  for  notes. 
This  poem  has  been  set  to  music  by  Helen  A.  Clarke  ;  pub- 
lished in  Poet-Lore  for  July,  1889 ;  also  separately  by 
Poet-Lore  Publishing  Company,  Philadelphia. 

My  Wife  Gertrude.     See  Boot  and  Saddle. 

Names,  The.  At  Dr.  F.  J.  Furnivall's  suggestion, 
Browning  was  asked  to  contribute  a  sonnet  to  the  Shakes- 
perean  Show-Book  of  the  "  Shakesperean  Show "  held 
in  Albert  Hall,  London,  on  May  29-31,  1884,  to  pay  off 
the  debt  on  the  Hospital  for  Women,  in  Fulham  Road. 
The  poet  sent  to  the  committee  a  sonnet  on  the  names  of 
Jehovah  and  Shakespeare.  It  was  printed  as  the  first  arti- 
cle in  the  Show-Book ;  it  was  reprinted  in  The  Pall  Mall 
Gazette  for  May  29,  1884  ;  and  it  was  published  in  the 
fifth  number  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  1 : 105*. 

THE  NAMES. 

Shakespeare  !  —  to  such  name's  sounding,  what  succeeds 
Fitly  as  silence  ?     Falter  forth  the  spell,  — 
Act  follows  word,  the  speaker  knows  full  well, 

Nor  tampers  with  its  magic  more  than  needs. 


212  Nationality  in  Drinks. 

Two  names  there  are :  That  which  the  Hebrew  reads 

With  his  soul  only :  if  from  lips  it  fell, 

Echo,  back  thundered  by  earth,  heaven  and  hell, 
Would  own  "  Thou  did'st  create  us  !  "     Nought  impedes 
We  voice  the  other  name,  man's  most  of  might, 

Awesomely,  lovingly :  let  awe  and  love 
Mutely  await  their  working,  leave  to  sight 

All  of  the  issue  as  —  below  —  above  — 

Shakespeare's  creation  rises :   one  remove, 
Though  dread  —  this  finite  from  that  infinite. 
March  12,  '84. 

Nationality  in  Drinks.  Three  poems,  as  originally 
published,  have  been  joined  together  under  this  title.  The 
first  of  these  poems  was  called  Claret,  and  consisted  of  two 
stanzas  of  six  lines  each.  The  second  was  published  first 
as  Tokay,  and  contained  seventeen  lines.  These  two  poems, 
under  the  general  title  of  Claret  and  Tokay,  were  published 
in  Hood's  Magazine,  edited  by  Thomas  Hood,  and  at  the 
request  of  Monckton  Milnes,  afterwards  Lord  Houghton, 
because  of  the  illness  of  the  editor.  This  explanation  of 
his  illness  was  made  in  the  magazine  itself  :  "  A  severe  at- 
tack of  the  disorder  to  which  he  has  long  been  subject  — 
hemorrhage  from  the  lungs,  occasioned  by  the  enlargement 
of  the  heart  (itself  brought  on  by  the  wearing  excitement  of 
ceaseless  and  excessive  literary  toil)  —  has,  in  the  course  of 
a  few  weeks,  reduced  Mr.  Hood  to  a  state  of  such  extreme 
debility  and  exhaustion,  that  during  several  days  fears  were 
entertained  for  his  life."  These  two  poems,  with  The  Lab- 
oratory, appeared  in  the  magazine  for  June,  1844.  In 
Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics,  1845,  they  were  reprinted 
in  the  same  form. 

The  third  of  these  poems  was  published  in  1845,  in  Dra- 
matic Romances  and  Lyrics,  the  seventh  part  of  Bells  and 
Pomegranates.  It  there  appeared  as  the  second  poem 
under  the  general  title  of  Home  Thoughts  from  Abroad, 
itself  bearing  the  title  of  Here 's  to  Nelson's  Memory,  and 
contained  fifteen  lines. 

In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  these  three  poems  were 
brought  together  under  the  present  title,  but  each  had  its 
own  sub-title,  as  follows  :  I.  Claret.  II.  Tokay.  III.  Beer. 
The  edition  of  1868  retained  the  numbering,  but  omitted 
the  sub-titles ;  but  that  of  1888  omitted  even  the  numbering. 

The  anecdote  about  Nelson  at  Trafalgar,  with  which  the 


Natural  Magic.  —  Ned  JBratts.  213 

poem  concludes,  was  the  occasion  of  its  being  written.  It 
is  a  tribute  to  his  memory,  and  to  the  superior  prowess  of 
Englishmen  as  represented  by  him. 

Natural  Magic.    Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems,  1876. 

Ned  Bratts.  Written  at  Spltigen,  and  published  in 
Dramatic  Idyls,  First  Series,  1879. 

This  poem  is  taken  from  Bunyan's  story  of  old  Tod,  as 
told  in  his  Mr.  Badman.  It  was  Bunyan's  purpose  in  this 
book  to  describe  "  the  life  and  death  of  the  ungodly,  and 
their  travel  from  this  world  to  Hell."  This  story  was  heard 
by  Browning  in  his  boyhood,  and  it  was  from  memory  that 
he  produced  the  poem,  for  it  was  written  at  a  place  far 
away  from  books.  Bunyan  drew  upon  current  Midland 
stories,  often  told  by  the  fireside  and  impressed  upon  his 
youthful  imagination,  for  his  account  of  old  Tod.  The  title 
page  of  the  book  as  printed  in  1680,  and  the  story  of  old 
Tod,  are  here  given  verbatim  :  — 

"  The  Life  and  Death  of  Mr.  Badman,  Presented  To  the 
World  in  a  familiar  Dialogue  Between  Mr.  Wiseman, 
And  Mr.  Attentive.  By  John  Bunyan,  the  Author  of 
the  Pilgrims  Progress.  London,  Printed  by  J.  A.  for 
Nath.  Ponder  at  the  Peacock  in  the  Poultrey,  near  the 
Church.  1680. 

"  Wife[man].  Since  you  are  entred  upon  Storyes,   The  story 
I  alfo  will  tell  you  one,  the  which,  though  I  heard   of  old  Tod- 
it  not  with  mine  own  Ears,  yet  my  author  I  dare   Younir 
believe.      It  is  concerning  one  old  Tod,  that  was  Thieves 
hanged   about   Twenty  years   agoe,  or  more,  at  taken'  tlce> 
Hartford,  for  being  a  Thief.     The  Story  is  this  : 

'"At  a  Summer  Affixes  holden  at  Hartfort,  while  the 
Judge  was  fitting  upon  the  Bench,  comes  this  old  Tod  into 
the  Court,  cloathed  in  a  green  Suit,  with  his  Leathern  Gir- 
dle in  his  hand,  his  bofom  open,  and  all  on  a  dung  fweat, 
as  if  he  had  run  for  his  Life ;  and  being  come  in,  he  fpake 
aloud  as  follows :  My  Lord,  faid  he,  Here  is  the 

a    r>  -.»_«?        ..I.  J.T. .       j.<  jf  J.T.       OldTWbe- 

veryejt  Jzogue  that  breaths  upon  the  jace  oj  the  gan  hisway 
earth.  I  have  been  a  Thief  from  a  Child :  When  ^the  ^^_ 
/  was  but  a  little  one,  I  gave  my  felf  to  rob  Or-  wng  of  Or- 
chards,  and  to  do  other  fuch  like  wicked  things,  ^eir]^e^nd 
and  I  have  continued  a  Thief  ever  fence.  My 
Lord,  there  has  not  been  a  Bobbery  committed  thus  many 


214      Never  the  Time  and  the  Place.  —  Now. 

years,  within  fo  many  miles  of  this  place,  but  I  have  either 
been  at  it,  or  privy  to  it. 

"  '  The  Judge  thought  the  fellow  was  mad,  but  after  fome 
conference  with  fome  of  the  Juftices,  they  agreed  to  Indict 
him ;  and  fo  they  did,  of  feveral  felonious  Actions ;  to  *all 
which  he  heartily  confeffed  Guilty,  and  fo  was  hanged  with 
his  wife  at  the  fame  time.' 

"  Atten[tive~].  This  is  a  remarkable  ftory  indeed,  and 
you  think  it  is  a  true  one. 

"  Wife.  It  is  not  only  remarkable,  but  pat  to  our  pur- 
pofe.  This  Thief,  like  Mr.  Badman,  began  his  Trade  be- 
times ;  he  began  too  where  Mr.  Badman  began,  even  at 
robbing  of  Orchards,  and  other  fuch  things,  which  brought 
him,  as  you  may  perceive,  from  fin  to  fin,  till  at  laft  it 
brought  him  to  the  publick  fhame  of  fin,  which  is  the  Gal- 
lows. 

"  As  for  the  truth  of  this  Story,  the  Relator  told  me  that 
he  was  at  the  fame  time  hirnfelf  in  the  Court,  and  ftood 
within  lefs  than  two  yards  of  old  Tod,  when  he  heard  him 
aloud  to  utter  the  words." 

As  will  be  seen,  Browning  has  improved  upon  this  story 
as  told  by  Bunyan.  He  has  invented  the  conversion  of  Tod 
and  his  wife  through  the  influence  of  the  reading  of  Bun- 
yan ;  and  he  has  embellished  the  narrative  in  other  par- 
ticulars. Mr.  R.  H.  Hutton  says  of  this  poem,  in  his  Liter- 
ary Essays,  that  "  nothing  could  illustrate  better  the  savage 
conciseness  with  which  Mr.  Browning  loves  to  dash  in  his 
sketches  in  black  and  white,  to  signalize  rather  than  to  paint 
what  strikes  his  eye." 

See  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  part  two,  1 :  254, 
and  Froude's  Bunyan,  p.  5. 

Never  the  Time  and  the  Place.     Jocoseria,  1883. 

An  expression  of  love  and  longing,  with  some  memory  in 
it  of  Mrs.  Browning. 

Norbert.  The  lover  of  Constance,  in  In  a  Balcony,  and 
the  diplomatic  agent  of  the  Queen.  The  Queen  believes 
that  he  loves  her,  and  the  tragedy  of  the  play  arises  from 
the  cross-purposes  thus  produced. 

Not  with  my  Soul,  Love !  The  first  words  of  the 
tenth  lyric  in  FerislitalCs  Fancies. 

Now.     Asolando,  1889. 


Numpholeptos.  215 

Numpholeptos.  Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems,  1876. 

The  title  of  this  poem  means,  caught  by  a  nymph  or  en- 
tranced by  a  nymph.  Nymphs  were  inferior  gods  or  the 
gods  of  the  groves,  rivers,  mountains,  and  other  natural  ob- 
jects. They  were  supposed  to  have  prophetic  or  oracular 
powers,  which  they  communicated  to  springs,  wells,  trees, 
etc.,  thus  endowing  them  with  curative  powers.  Inspired 
soothsayers  or  priests  were  called  numpholeptoi.  In  his 
life  of  Aristides  Plutarch  says :  "  The  cave  of  the  nymphs 
Spragitides  was  on  the  top  of  the  Mount  Cithaeron,  on  the 
side  facing  the  setting  sun  of  summer  time ;  in  which  place, 
as  the  story  goes,  there  was  formerly  an  oracle,  and  many 
that  lived  in  the  district  were  inspired  with  it,  whom  they 
called  Nympholepti,  possessed  with  the  nymphs." 

See  Numpholeptos  and  Broiuning's  Women,  by  Mrs.  Glaze- 
brook,  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  eleven.  Mrs. 
Glazebrook  analyzes  and  interprets  the  poem,  and  says  :  — 
"  The  nymph  is  the  ideal  woman  —  a  modern  Beatrice  or 
Laura  —  a  being  endowed  with  all  beauty,  all  knowledge, 
all  purity  and  virtue,  who  was  born  centuries  ago,  in  the 
days  of  mediaeval  chivalry,  in  whose  honor  many  songs 
have  been  sung,  and  many  lances  have  been  broken. 
Dante  describes  her  beautifully  for  us  in  his  Vita  Nuova, 
the  book  which  tells  the  story  of  his  early  love.  She  is 
'  that  most  gentle  lady,  the  destroyer  of  all  vices  and  the 
queen  of  all  virtues,'  in  whose  presence  evil  is  abashed  and 
all  gracious  sentiments  are  aroused."  Miss  Mary  E.  Burt's 
Browning's  Women  discusses  this  character  in  the  chapter 
on  intellectual  women. 

In  reporting  the  meeting  of  the  Browning  Society  at 
which  Mrs.  Glazebrook's  paper  was  read,  the  London  Liter- 
ary World  said :  "  The  poem  of  Numpholeptos  was  con- 
sidered in  two  papers,  —  one  by  Mrs.  Glazebrook  and  the 
other  by  Dr.  Berdoe.  The  poem  is  remarkable  for  its 
many  beautiful  lines,  but  is  one  of  the  most  obscure  of 
Browning's  works.  A  lover  adores  a  Nymph  of  '  quintes- 
sential whiteness,'  who  stands  in  the  center  of  a  wheel  of 
dazzling  white  light,  which,  like  a  diamond,  rays  forth  col- 
ored beams,  forming  the  spokes  of  a  mystic  wheel.  The 
light  metaphor  is  a  favorite  of  Mr.  Browning's.  The  figure 
of  the  breaking  up  of  pyre  white  light  into  the  component 


216  Ogniben. —  Oh  Love!  Love. 

rays  of  the  solar  spectrum  and  their  reconstruction  to  form 
again  pure  white  light  is  constantly  used  throughout  the 
poet's  works,  and  is  one  of  the  instances  given  by  Dr.  Ber- 
doe  of  his  eminence  as  the  poet  of  science.  The  trouble  at 
the  Browning  debate  was  to  make  out  who  was  the  Nymph. 
4  Philosophy,'  '  Divine  Wisdom,'  '  The  Virgin  Mary,  ' 
'  Dante's  Beatrice,'  '  Pervenient  Grace,'  '  Truth,'  '  Ideal 
Woman,'  '  Goethe's  Woman-Soul,'  were  all  suggested  at  the 
meeting,  but  all  in  some  point  or  other  failed,  even  to  the 
suggesters  themselves,  to  meet  all  the  conditions  of  the 
poem.  Mrs.  Glazebrook  thought  the  poem  meant  to  symbol- 
ize 'Ideal  Woman.'  Dr.  Berdoe,  though  he  felt  there  was 
much  to  be  said  for  the  idea  of  '  Our  Lady,'  and  in  a  lesser 
degree  '  Beatrice,'  as  symbols  of  grace,  was  most  inclined  to 
the  notion  of  the  '  Woman-Soul,'  —  not  the  ideally-perfect 
woman,  but  the  generalized  living  and  working  every-day 
woman,  —  the  savior  of  man,  as  the  solution  of  the  mys- 
tery. Many  speakers,  among  whom  was  Dr.  Furnivall  (the 
president, — who  was  in  the  chair),  confessed  that  it  was 
impossible  to  make  any  of  the  suggested  interpretations 
'  run  on  all-fours,'  and  it  was  resolved  to  ask  Mr.  Browning 
to  be  good  enough  to  explain  the  poem  to  the  Society.  The 
secret  of  the  difficulty  seems  largely  to  consist  in  the  inver- 
sion of  Dante's  metaphor  and  description  of  the  light  of 
heaven  in  the  Paradiso.  In  that  poem  '  the  listed  rays  ' 
combine  to  form  the  glorious  white  light  of  the  throne  of 
God,  treating  the  light  rays  as  centripetal.  Mr.  Brown- 
ing's use  of  the  metaphor  is  centrifugal,  —  the  resolution 
of  perfection  into  imperfection  ;  and  hence  the  difficulty 
of  the  recombination  which  the  pilgrim  ever  discovers." 

Ogniben.  The  Pope's  Legate  in  A  Soul's  Tragedy, 
who  rides  into  Faenza  on  his  mule  to  suppress  an  insurrec- 
tion, who  finally  advises  Chiappino  to  leave  the  town  for  a 
short  time,  and  who  rides  out  of  the  city  declaring  that  he 
had  "  known  Four-and-twenty  leaders  of  revolt." 

Oh  Love !  Love.  This  is  a  translation  of  a  lyric  in 
the  Hippolytus  of  Euripides,  and  it  was  made  by  Browning, 
at  the  request  of  Prof.  J.  P.  Mahaffy,  for  his  little  book 
on  Euripides,  published  in  the  series  of  Classical  Writers, 
edited  by  John  Richard  Green,  1879.  Prof.  Mahaffy  pre- 
faced it  with  these  words :  "  Mr.  Browning  has  honored 
me  (Dec.  18,  1878)  with  the  following  translation  of  these 


Old  Gandolf.  —  Old  Pictures  in  Florence.     217 

stanzas,  so  that  the  general  reader  may  not  miss  the  mean- 
ing or  the  spirit  of  the  ode.  The  English  meter,  though 
not  a  strict  reproduction,  gives  an  excellent  idea  of  the 
original."  This  poem  is  printed  in  a  supplement  to  volume 
vi.  of  the  Riverside  edition,  1889.  See  Appendix. 

Old  Gandolf.  The  enemy  of  the  bishop  in  The  Bishop 
at  St.  Praxed's  Church. 

Old  Pictures  in  Florence.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

In  this  poem  Browning  presents  some  of  his  theories  of 
art.  He  compares  the  old  painters  and  the  new ;  especially 
the  art  of  Greece,  with  its  physical  perfection,  and  the  more 
spiritual  art  of  Christian  Italy.  The  poem  was  suggested 
by  Giotto's  campanile  or  bell-tower  of  the  cathedral  or 
duorno  in  Florence.  Giotto  was  born  in  1276,  was  edu- 
cated in  art  by  Cimabue,  was  the  friend  of  Dante,  and  in- 
troduced into  art  a  love  for  what  is  natural  and  simple.  He 
worked  in  many  Italian  cities,  and  left  behind  him  many 
remarkable  productions.  Boccaccio  says  that  "  Giotto  was 
a  man  of  such  genius  that  nothing  was  ever  created  that  he 
did  not  reproduce  with  the  stile,  the  pen,  or  the  pencil,  so 
as  not  merely  to  imitate  but  to  appear  nature  itself."  Per- 
haps no  one  of  his  productions  has  excited  more  interest 
than  the  campanile,  of  which  Ruskin  has  said  :  "  The  char- 
acteristics of  power  and  beauty  occur  more  or  less  in  differ- 
ent buildings,  some  in  one  and  some  in  another.  But  alto- 
gether, and  all  in  their  highest  possible  relative  degrees, 
they  exist,  as  far  as  I  know,  only  in  one  building  of  the 
world,  the  campanile  of  Giotto." 

The  comparison  which  Browning  makes  between  Giotto's 
perfect  O  and  his  uncompleted  campanile  was  drawn  from 
the  reading  of  Giorgio  Vasari's  Lives  of  the  most  eminent 
Painters,  Sculptors,  and  Architects.  Vasari  was  born  in 
Tuscany  in  1512,  studied  art  with  Michael  Angelo,  did 
much  good  work  as  an  architect  and  painter,  and  died  at 
Florence  in  1574.  His  fame  rests  on  his  Vite  de'  piu  ec- 
cellenti  Pittori,  Scidtori  ed  Architetti,  which  was  published 
in  1550.  He  revised  and  enlarged  it  three  or  four  times  ; 
and  it  has  been  edited  again  and  again  in  more  recent 
years.  It  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  works  connected 
with  the  history  of  art.  When  Browning  went  to  Italy  in 


218  Old  Pictures  in  Florence. 

1846,  with  his  newly  married  wife,  he  lived  at  Pisa  for 
some  months  in  a  house  built  by  Vasari.  Early  in  1847, 
Mrs.  Browning  wrote  from  there  to  her  friend  Home,  the 
poet :  "  We  live  here  in  the  most  secluded  manner,  eschew- 
ing English  visitors,  and  reading  Vasari,  and  dreaming 
dreams  of  seeing  Venice  in  the  summer."  The  same  year 
the  two  poets  settled  in  Florence,  and  then  Browning  stud- 
ied Giotto  and  his  work,  as  well  as  the  other  masters,  old 
and  new.  Much  of  this  study  was  done  by  the  help  of 
Vasari,  who  describes  as  follows  the  incidents  referred  to  in 
the  poem. 

"  Giotto  repaired  to  Pisa,  and  on  one  of  the  walls  of  the 
Campo  Santo  he  painted  the  history  of  Job,  in  six  large 
frescos.  .  .  .  The  figures  of  these  paintings,  and  the  heads 
are  exceedingly  beautiful ;  the  draperies  are  also  painted 
witli  exceeding  grace ;  nor  is  it  at  all  surprising  that  this 
work  acquired  so  much  fame  for  its  author  as  to  induce 
Pope  Benedict  IX.  to  send  one  of  his  courtiers  from  Tre- 
viso  to  Tuscany  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  what  kind 
of  man  Giotto  might  be,  and  what  were  his  works :  the 
pontiff  then  proposing  to  have  certain  paintings  executed 
in  the  church  of  St.  Peter.  The  messenger,  when  on  his 
way  to  visit  Giotto,  and  to  inquire  what  other  masters 
there  were  in  Florence,  spoke  first  with  many  artists  in 
Siena  —  then,  having  received  designs  from  them,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  Florence,  and  repaired  one  morning  to  the  work- 
shop where  Giotto  was  occupied  with  his  labors.  He  de- 
clared the  purpose  of  the  pope,  and  the  manner  in  which 
that  pontiff  desired  to  avail  himself  of  his  assistance,  and 
finally,  requested  to  have  a  drawing,  that  he  might  send  it 
to  his  holiness.  Giotto,  who  was  very  courteous,  took  a 
sheet  of  paper,  and  a  pencil  dipped  in  red  color ;  then, 
resting  his  elbow  on  his  side,  to  form  a  sort  of  compass, 
with  one  turn  of  the  hand  he  drew  a  circle,  so  perfect  and 
exact  that  it  was  a  marvel  to  behold-  This  done,  he  turned 
smiling  to  the  courtier,  saying,  '  Here  is  your  drawing.' 
'  Am  I  to  have  nothing  more  than  this  ?  '  inquired  the  latter, 
conceiving  himself  to  he  jested  with.  '  That  is  enough  and 
to  spare,'  returned  Giotto ;  '  send  it  with  the  rest,  and  you 
will  see  if  it  will  be  recognized.'  The  messenger,  unable  to 
obtain  anything  more,  went  away  very  ill-satisfied,  and  fear- 


Old  Pictures  in  Florence.  219 

ing  that  he  had  been  fooled.  Nevertheless,  having  dis- 
patched the  other  drawings  to  the  pope,  with  the  names  of 
those  who  had  done  them,  he  sent  that  of  Giotto  also,  relating 
the  mode  in  which  he  had  made  his  circle,  without  moving 
his  arm  and  without  compasses  ;  from  which  the  pope,  and 
such  of  the  courtiers  as  were  well  versed  in  the  subject,  per- 
ceived how  far  Giotto  surpassed  all  the  other  painters  of 
the  time.  This  incident,  becoming  known,  gave  rise  to  the 
proverb,  still  used  in  relation  to  people  of  dull  wits  —  Tu 
sei  piu  tondo  che  VO  di  Giotto  [Thou  art  rounder  than  the 
O  of  Giotto]  —  the  significance  of  which  consists  in  the 
double  meaning  of  the  word  tondo,  which  is  used  in  the 
Tuscan  for  slowness  of  intellect  and  heaviness  of  compre- 
hension, as  well  as  for  an  exact  circle. 

"  After  completing  these  works,  and  on  the  9th  of  July, 
1334,  Giotto  commenced  the  campanile  of  Santa  Maria  del 
Fiore  ;  the  foundations  were  laid  on  massive  stone.  .  .  . 
The  edifice  then  proceeded  on  the  plan  before  mentioned, 
and  in  the  Gothic  manner  of  those  times ;  all  the  historical 
repi'esentations,  which  were  to  be  the  ornaments,  being  de- 
signed with  infinite  care  and  diligence  by  Giotto  himself, 
who  marked  out  on  the  model  all  the  compartments  where 
the  friezes  and  sculptures  were  to  be  placed,  in  colors  of 
white,  black,  and  red.  .  .  .  And  if  that  which  Lorenzo  di 
Clone  Ghiberti  has  written  be  true,  as  I  fully  believe  it  is, 
Giotto  not  only  made  the  model  of  the  campanile,  but  even 
executed  a  part  of  the  sculptures  and  reliefs,  —  those  repre- 
sentations in  marble,  namely,  which  exhibit  the  origin  of 
all  the  arts.  Lorenzo  also  affirms  that  he  saw  models  in  re- 
lief from  the  hand  of  Giotto,  and  more  particularly  those 
used  in  these  works.  .  .  .  This  campanile,  according  to  the 
design  of  Giotto,  was  to  have  been  crowned  by  a  spire  or 
pyramid,  of  the  height  of  fifty  braccia  ;  but  as  this  was  in 
the  old  Gothic  manner,  the  modern  architects  have  always 
advised  its  omission,  the  building  appearing  to  them  better 
as  it  is.  For  all  these  works,  Giotto  was  not  only  made  a 
citizen  of  Florence,  but  also  received  a  pension  of  a  hun- 
dred golden  florins  yearly  —  a  large  sum  in  those  times  — 
from  the  commune  of  Florence.  He  was  also  appointed 
superintendent  of  the  work,  which  he  did  not  live  to  see 
finished,  but  which  was  continued  after  his  death  by  Tad- 


220  Old  Pictures  in  Florence. 

deo  Gaddi.  .  .  .  Finally,  and  no  long  time  after  he  had  re- 
turned from  Milan,  having  passed  his  life  in  the  production 
of  so  many  admirable  works,  and  having  proved  himself  a 
good  Christian,  as  well  as  an  excellent  painter,  Giotto  re- 
signed his  soul  to  God  in  the  year  1336,  not  only  to  the 
great  regret  of  his  fellow  citizens,  but  of  all  who  had  known 
him,  or  even  heard  his  name." 

The  last  line  of  the  eighth  stanza  refers  to  Leonardo  da 
Vinci,  and  to  Dello  di  Niccolo  Delli,  a  painter  and  sculptor 
of  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century.  —  The  Stefano  of 
the  ninth  stanza  was  a  disciple  of  Giotto,  and  a  Florentine 
painter.  He  was  called  the  "  Ape  of  Nature  "  because  of  the 
accuracy  of  his  representations  of  the  human  body.  Vasari 
says  :  "  It  is  obvious  Stefano  approached  closely  to  the  man- 
ner of  the  moderns,  surpassing  his  master  Giotto  consider- 
ably, whether  in  design  or  other  artistic  qualities."  Vasari 
gives  biographies  of  all  the  artists  mentioned  in  the  poem. 

In  the  thirteenth  stanza  the  allusions  are  to  celebrated 
pieces  of  sculpture.  Theseus  is  a  reclining  statue  from  the 
eastern  pediment  of  the  Parthenon,  now  in  the  British  Mu- 
seum.— The  Son  of  Priam  is  probably  the  Paris  of  the 
jEginetan  sculptures,  which  is  kneeling  and  drawing  a  bow  ; 
now  in  the  Glyptothek  in  Munich.  —  Apollo  is  thus  dis- 
cussed by  Browning  himself  :  — 

"  A  word  on  the  line  about  Apollo  the  snake-slayer,  -which  my  friend 
Professor  Colvin  condemns,  believing  that  the  god  of  the  Belvedere 
grasps  no  bow,  but  the  aegis,  as  described  in  the  15th  Iliad.  Surely 
the  text  represents  that  portentoiis  object  (Bovpiv,  Stiff)?,  afjupiSdfffiav, 
apnrpfire ' — /mapfjiaperiv)  as  'shaken  violently'  or  'held  immovably' 
by  both  hands,  not  a  single  one,  and  that  the  left  hand :  — 

aAAa  <rv  *y*  ev  ^et'peo'a't  Aa/3*  aiyt&a  0v<Tav6e<7<Ta.v 
TTIV  fid\ '  fTrio<rei<av  <£o£e'eip  rjpwa?  'A^aious. 

and  so  on,  T^V  &p  t>  y'  eV  xftpfff<Jlv  fXwv — xfPff^v  ^X*  "TP6V°>  K.T.\. 
Moreover,  while  he  shook  it  he  '  shouted  enormously,'  ffe'tff',  firl  5'  au- 
rbs  atffft  /j.d\a  fj.tya,  which  the  statue  does  not.  Presently  when  Teu- 
kros,  on  the  other  side,  plies  the  bow,  it  is  r6£ov  fx<av  €>I/  X(1P^  "fi-^-iv- 
rovov.  Besides,  by  the  act  of  discharging  an  arrow,  the  right  arm 
and  hand  are  thrown  back  as  we  see,  —  a  quite  gratuitous  and  theat- 
rical display  in  the  case  supposed.  The  conjecture  of  Flaxman  that 
the  statue  was  suggested  by  the  bronze  Apollo  Alexikakos  of  Kala- 
mis,  mentioned  by  Pausanias,  remains  probable ;  though  the  '  hard- 
ness '  which  Cicero  considers  to  distinguish  the  artist's  workmanship 
from  that  of  Muron  is  not  by  any  means  apparent  in  our  marble  copy, 
if  it  be  one.— Feb.  16,  1880." 


Old  Pictures  in  Florence.  221 

This  note  Browning  added  to  the  poem  in  his  volume  of 
Selections. 

Niobe  is  a  statue  of  that  unfortunate  mother  mourning 
the  death  of  her  children,  in  a  group  of  ancient  sculpture 
in  the  Uffizi  Palace,  Florence.  —  The  Racers'  frieze  refers 
to  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon.  —  The  dying  Alexander  is 
a  head  by  that  name  at  Florence,  one  of  the- finest  pieces  of 
ancient  Greek  sculpture.  It  has  been  thought  to  represent 
Alexander  or  Lysippus  ;  but  the  best  authorities  think  it 
was  not  intended  for  either. 

In  the  twenty-third  stanza  Nicolo  the  Pisan  is  Nicolo  Pi- 
sano,  an  architect  and  sculptor,  who  lived  from  1207  to 
1278.  —  Cimabue  was  the  patron  and  teacher  of  Giotto,  and 
lived  from  1240  to  1302.  He  began  the  reform  in  art 
which  Giotto  developed,  especially  in  his  greater  natural- 
ness in  design  and  expression.  —  Lorenzo  Ghiberti  lived 
from  1381  to  1455  ;  and  of  his  great  work,  the  eastern  doors 
of  the  Baptistery  at  Florence,  Michael  Angelo  said  they 
were  worthy  to  be  the  gates  of  Paradise.  —  Ghirlandajo  is 
the  popular  name  of  Domenico  Bigordi,  a  great  fresco 
painter  of  Florence  who  lived  from  1449  to  1494. 

In  the  twenty-sixth  stanza  Sandro  Filipepi,  usually  called 
Botticelli,  was  a  disciple  of  Savonarola,  and  painted  mytho- 
logical subjects.  —  Lippino  is  the  popular  name  of  Filippino 
Lippi,  the  son  of  Fra  Lippo  Lippi,  and  a  successful  Floren- 
tine painter  who  lived  from  1460  to  1505.  He  was  wronged 
because  others  were  credited  with  his  work.  —  Fra  Ange- 
lica, the  artistic  name  of  Giovanni  da  Fiesole,  the  greatest 
of  the  distinctly  Christian  painters,  who  lived  from  1387  to 
1455.  —  Taddeo  Gaddi,  the  godson  and  pupil  of  Giotto,  was 
a  painter  and  architect  who  carried  on  the  building  of  the 
campanile  after  the  death  of  his  master  ;  he  lived  from  1300 
to  1366.  —  Lorenzo  Monaco  was  a  monk  and  painter,  who 
followed  the  manner  of  Gaddi,  and  was  more  severe  in  man- 
ner than  Fra  Angelico. 

In  the  twenty-seventh  stanza,  Antonio  Pollajolo  was  a 
painter,  sculptor,  and  goldsmith,  who  lived  from  1430  to 
1498.  He  was  one  of  the  first  artists  to  study  anatomy  by 
dissection,  and  this  knowledge  he  displayed  in  the  muscular 
character  of  his  portraits.  — Alesso  Baldovinetti  was  a  Flor- 
entine painter  of  the  fifteenth  century,  of  little  prominence. 


222  Old  Pictures  in  Florence. 

In  the  twenty-eighth  stanza  Margheritone  was  a  painter, 
sculptor,  and  architect  of  Arezzo,  who  lived  from  1236  to 
1313.  He  represented  the  ascetic  and  supernatural ;  and 
his  chief  subject  was  the  crucifixion.  His  chief  Madonna, 
now  in  the  London  National  Gallery,  is  grim  and  weird. 
The  Browning  Society's  Papers  report  that  Browning  pos- 
sessed the  Crucifixion  here  described,  as  well  as  the  pictures 
by  Alesso  Baldovinetti,  Taddeo  Gaddi,  and  Pollajolo  which 
he  has  described  in  the  poem.  Margheritone  is  depicted  as 
in  funeral  garb  because  deeply  annoyed  at  the  success  of 
Giotto. 

In  the  thirtieth  stanza  a  certain  precious  little  tablet  is 
thus  mentioned  in  a  letter  written  by  Browning  to  Professor 
Corson :  "  The  little  tablet  was  a  famous  Last  Supper, 
mentioned  by  Vasari,  and  gone  astray  long  ago  from  the 
Church  of  S.  Spirito ;  it  turned  up,  according  to  report,  in 
some  obscure  corner,  while  I  was  in  Florence,  and  was  at 
once  acquired  by  a  stranger.  I  saw  it,  genuine  or  no,  a 
work  of  great  beauty."  —  Buonarotti  is  Michael  Angelo. 

In  the  thirty-first  stanza  San  Spirito  is  a  fourteenth- 
century  church  in  Florence.  —  Ognissanti  is  "  All  Saints  " 
church  of  the  same  city.  —  The  Kohinoor  and  Giamschid 
are  among  the  largest  diamonds ;  one  owned  by  Queen 
Victoria,  and  the  other  by  the  Shah  of  Persia. 

In  the  thirty-second  stanza  a  certain  dotard  refers  to 
Radetzky,  then  ninety-two  years  old,  who  governed  the 
Austrian  possessions  in  Italy.  —  The  Orgagna  of  the  thirty- 
third  stanza,  a  Florentine  painter  of  the  school  of  Giotto, 
lived  from  1315  to  1376. 

The  thirty-fifth  and  thirty-sixth  stanzas  refer  to  the  un- 
completed campanile.  In  his  II  Penseroso  Milton  refers 
to  the  unfinished  Squire's  Tale  of  Chaucer, 

"  Or  call  up  him  that  left  half -told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  bold." 

Browning  compares  with  it  the  uncompleted  campanile. 
Giotto's  plan  of  raising  the  campanile  to  the  height  of  fifty 
braccia,  or  about  one  hundred  feet,  Browning  hopes  will  be 
completed.  In  her  Casa  Guidi  Windows  Mrs.  Browning 
refers  to  the  campanile  in  the  same  spirit  as  the  last  stanza. 
For  further  information  about  Giotto  see  Vasari  as  trans- 


O  Lyric  Love. 


223 


lated  by  Mrs.  Jonathan  Foster  in  Bohn's  Library,  Mrs.  Oli- 
phant's  Makers  of  Florence,  Mrs.  Jameson's  Memoirs  of 
Italian  Painters,  Woltmann  and  "VVoermann's  History  of 
Painting,  Heaton's  History  of  Painting  and  Liibke's  His- 
tory of  Art. 

In  his  Introduction  to  Browning  Corson  gives  extended 
notes,  covering  every  allusion,  historical  or  artistic,  con- 
tained in  the  poem,  and  also  two  important  notes  contrib- 
uted by  Browning  himself. 

O  lyric  Love,  half-angel  and  half-bird.  The  first 
line  of  the  last  stanza  of  Book  I.  of  The  Ring  and  the  Book, 
addressed  to  Mrs.  Browning.  In  the  ninth  number  of  The 
Browning  Society's  Papers,  2  :  165,  Dr.  F.  J.  Furnivall, 
the  president  of  the  Society,  gives  a  grammatical  analysis  of 
this  stanza.  As  it  exemplifies  the  often  complicated  nature 
of  Browning's  grammatical  constructions,  this  analysis  is 
quoted  entire,  as  follows  :  — 

[To  Elizabeth  Browning  in  Heaven."] 

(1)  O  lyric  Love,  (2)  half -angel  and  half -bird,       1391 

(3)  And  all  a  wonder  and  a  wild  desire,  — 

(4)  Boldest  of  hearts  (a)  that  ever  braved  the 

sun, 

(6)  Took  sanctuary  within  the  holier  blue, 
(c)  And  sang  a  kindred  soul  out  to  his  face  ;  —     1395 

(5)  Yet  human  at  the  red-ripe  of  the  heart  — 
(x)  When  the  first  summons  from  the  darkling 

earth  1397 

Reached  thee  amid  thy  chambers,  (y)  blanched 

their  blue, 
(z)  And  bared  thfcm  of  the  glory  —  (m)  to  drop 

down, 

To  toil  for  man,  (o)  to  suffer,  (p)  or  to  die,  —  1400 
(I)  [R.  B.'s]  This  is  the  same   voice:   (II)  can  thy   soul 

know  change  ? 
(Ill)  Hail  then,  and  (IV)  hearken  from  the  realms 

of  help ! 

(V)  Never  may  I  commence  my  song,  (/)  my  due 
To  God  who  best  taught  song  by  gift  of  thee, 
(w)  Except  with  bent  head  and  beseeching  hand  —  1405 
That  still,  (u)  despite  the  distance   and  the 

dark, 

Adverb  to  J         What  was,  again  may  be ;  (g)  some   inter- 
commence.  '  change  1407 

Of  grace,  (h)  some  splendour,  once  thy  very 

thought, 
(i)  Some  benediction,  anciently  thy  smile  :  — 


Voca. 
tive. 


Adverb 

to 
human. 


1410 

Adverb 
to 

conclude. 


1413 

Adverb 

to 
raising. 


224  O  Lyric  Love. 

(VI)  Never  conclude,  (v)  but  raising  hand  and 

head 
f  Thither  where  eyes,  that  cannot  reach, 

yet  yearn 

Adverb  to  raising.  -|  Yot  all  hope,  all  sustaiument,  all  reward, 
Their  utmost  up  and  on,  —  (t)  so  bless- 
[      ing  back 

Adverb  to  blessing.  \  In  those  thy  realms  of  help,  that  heaven 
(      thy  home, 

(Some  whiteness  which,  I  judge,  thy  face 
makes  proud, 
Some  wanness  where,  I  think,  thy  foot 
may  fall !  J        1416 

"  The  two  difficulties  of  the  analysis  lie  in  the  4-line  adverb 
of  time,  line  1397-1400,  (a;)  '  When  the  first  summons,' 
etc.,  and  the  S^-line  adverb  of  purpose,  1.  1413-16,  (t)  '  so 
blessing  back,'  etc. 

"  As  to  the  4-line  adverb  of  time  (x),  tho  it  looks  like  an 
adverb  to  '  Took'  (1. 1394)  and  'sang'  (1. 1395),  it  is  really 
one  to  '  human '  (1. 1396),  thus  contrasting  the  Poetess's  hu- 
manity at  her  death,  with  the  '  half-angel  and  half-bird ' 
metaphor  of  line  1.  So  also  (m,  o,p),  'for  the  purpose  of 
dropping  down,'  &c.,  are  in  like  manner  adverbs  to  '  human.' 1 

"  In  the  3j-line  adverb  of  purpose  (t),  '  so '  means  '  by 
that  act  of  raising  hand  and  head.' 

"  The  Poem  thus  starts  with  a  Vocative  of  ten  lines, 
1.  1391-1400,  and  is  completed  by  six  principal  sentences, 
(I)  to  (VI).  _ 

"  The  10-line  Vocative  consists  of  its  nucleus-noun  '  0 
Love,'  qualified  by  the  one-worded  adjective  '  lyric '  and  the 
4  many-worded  adjectives  2  (1)  '  who  wast  half-angel  and 
half-bird,'  (2)  '  and  who  wast  all  a  wonder  and  a  wild 
desire,'  (3)  '  who  wast  the  Boldest  of  hearts  '  (with  its 
own  adjectives  (a,  b,  c).  (4)  '  Yet  human  at  the  red-ripe 
of  the  heart.'  These  4  many-worded  adjectives  take  up  5 \ 
lines,  1.  1391-96.  Then  comes  the  4-line  many-worded  ad- 
verb of  time  (x)  already  noticed.  Its  hook  to  its  adjective 
'  hitman'  is  the  conjunction  '  When  '  ;  and  its  subject  '  sum- 
mons '  has  3  predicates,  '  Reached'  '  blanched,'  '  bared,'  with 
their  respective  complements.  The  infinitives  (m,  n.  o,  p) 
'  to  drop,'  &c.,  are  also  adverbs  to  '  Jmman,'  as  stated  above. 

"  We  come  then  to  the  principal  sentences,  of  which  the 

1  The  Poet  himself  decided  this  for  me. 

2  The  3d,  Boldest  of  hearts,  may  well  be  made  a  Vocative. 


O  Lyric  Love.  225 

short  (I,  II,  HI,  IV),  offer  no  difficulty.  In  (V),  (f)  '  my 
due,'  &c.,  can  be  taken  either  as  a  many-worded  noun  in 
apposition  to  '  song,'  or  as  an  adjective  ('  which  is  my  due  ') 
to  it.  Lines  1405  -  9  are  a  5-line  adverb  of  condition  to 
'  commence '  in  1.  1403,  the  clause  '  TJiat  still '  to  '  may-be' 
being  the  complement  of  '  beseeching  '  :  '  despite  the  dis- 
tance and  the  dark '  is  an  adverb  of  condition  to  '  may 
be  '  ;  and  '  What  was  '  is  a  noun,  with  which,  as  above 
said,  'interchange'  (1.  1407),  'splendour'  (1.  1408),  and 
'  benediction '  (1. 1409),  are  in  apposition.  Each  of  the  last 
two  nouns  has  its  adjective,  '  which  was  once  thy  very 
thought,'  &c.,  '  which  was  anciently  thy  smile.' 

"  The  6th  and  last  principal  sentence,  '  Never  may  I 
conclude,'  is  followed  by  its  3-line  adverb  of  condition  '  but 
.  .  .  reward ',  1.  1410-12,  of  which  the  last  1\  lines  are  an 
adverb  of  place  to  '  raising'  The  clause  '  where  eyes  .  .  . 
on  '  is  an  adjective  to  '  Thither  '  =  to  that  place.  Line  1412, 
'  For  all  hope '  is  an  adverb  of  purpose  to  '  yearn,'  whose 
object  is  '  Their  utmost,'  1.  1413. 

"  Then  comes,  in  1.  1413,  the  adverb  of  purpose  (t)  to 
'  raising  '  already  discussed.  Its  hook  '  so,'  means  '  by  that 
act  of  raising.'  In  1.  1414,  '  In  those  thy  realms'  is  an 
adverb  of  place  to  '  blessing,' 1  whose  two  objects  are  '  white- 
ness '  and  '  wanness,'  with  their  adjectives  single-  and  many- 
worded.  The  '  whiteness '  is  the  glorified  person,  halo- 
robed,  of  the  Poetess, —  with,  perchance,  white-clad  angels 
and  saints  —  in  Heaven2 ;  the  '  wanness,'  Heaven's  lucent 
floor  :  and  well  may  all  and  any  Beings,  create  and  increate, 
be  proud  of  such  a  soul  as  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning. 

"  The  only  other  difficulty  of  interpretation  is  in  line  5  of 
the  Lyric,  or  1395  of  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  '  And  sang 
a  kindred  soul  out  to  his  face'  This  is  part  of  the  bird-, 
the  lark-metaphor,  and  means  that  the  dead  Poetess,  when 
she  soared  into  the  blue,  sang  out  to  the  Sun,  her  soul  which 
was  akin  to  his,  as  life-giving,  as  pure,  as  bright." 

On  the  subject  of  grammatical  usage,  Mrs.  Orr  says  of 
Browning,  in  her  Handbook :  "  He  eschews  many  vulgar- 

1  That  heaven  thy  home  is  a  many-worded  noun  in  apposition  to 
Those  thy  realms  of  help. 

2  Miss  Hervey  says  it  is  "  the  representation  or  reflex  of  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing's face." 


226  One  Way  of  Love. 

isms  or  inaccuracies  which  custom  has  sanctioned,  both  in 
prose  and  verse,  such  as,  '  thou  wert ' ;  '  better  than  them 
all '  ;  'he  need  not '  ;  '  he  dare  not.'  The  universal  '  I  had 
better '  ;  '  I  had  rather,'  is  abhorrent  to  him."  Mrs.  Orr 
having  been  criticized  for  this  statement,  and  Browning's 
own  usage  quoted  against  her,  she  asked  the  poet  if  she  had 
misrepresented  him  ;  and  in  reply  he  wrote  her  :  — 

"  I  make  use  of  '  wast '  for  the  second  person  of  the  per- 
fect indicative,  and  '  wert '  for  the  present  potential,  simply 
to  be  understood  ;  as  I  should  hardly  be  if  I  substituted  the 
latter  for  the  former,  and  therewith  ended  my  phrase. 
'  Where  wert  thou,  brother,  those  three  days,  had  He  not 
raised  thee  ?  '  means  one  thing,  and  '  Where  wast  thou  when 
He  did  so  ? '  means  another.  That  there  is  precedent  in 
plenty  for  this  and  many  similar  locutions  ambiguous, 
or  archaic,  or  vicious,  I  am  well  aware,  and  that,  on 
their  authority,  I  be  wrong,  the  illustrious  poet  be  right,  and 
you,  our  critic,  was  and  shall  continue  to  be  my  instructor 
as  to  '  everything  that  pretty  bin'  As  regards  my  objec- 
tions to  the  slovenly  '  I  had '  for  '  I  'd,'  instead  of  the  proper 
'  I  would,'  I  shall  not  venture  to  supplement  what  Landor 
has  magisterially  spoken  on  the  subject.  An  adverb  adds 
to,  and  does  not  by  its  omission  alter  into  nonsense,  the  verb 
it  qualifies.  '  I  would  rather  speak  than  be  silent,  better 
criticize  than  learn,'  are  forms  structurally  regular :  what 
meaning  is  in  '  I  had  speak,'  '  had  criticize  ? '  Then,  I  am 
blamed  for  preferring  the  indicative  to  what  I  suppose  may 
be  the  potential  mood  in  the  case  of  '  need '  and  '  dare  '  — 
just  that  unlucky  couple  ;  by  all  means  go  on  and  say  '  He 
need  help,  he  dare  me  to  fight,'  and  so  pair  off  with  'He 
need  not  beg,  he  dare  not  reply,'  forms  which  may  be  ex- 
pected to  pullulate  in  this  morning's  paper. 

"  Venice,  Oct.  25, 1885.  R.  B." 

Once  I  saw  a  chemist  take  a  pinch  of  powder. 
The  first  line  of  the  eighth  lyric  in  Ferishtah's  Fan- 
cies. 

One  "Way  of  Love.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

A  sequel  to  this  poem  is  to  be  found  in  Another  Way  of 
Love.  This  poem  has  been  set  to  music  by  E.  C.  Gregory  ; 
London,  Novello,  Ewer  &  Co. 


One  Word  More.  227 

One  Word  More.     Men  and  Women,  1855. 

This  poem  was  written  in  London,  September,  1855,  and 
was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Browning.  It  is  the  counterpart  to 
her  Portuguese  Sonnets,  and  proves  that  Browning's  affec- 
tion was  quite  as  strong  as  hers.  Although  published  as 
the  last  poem  in  Men  and  Women,  it  is  in  reality  a  dedica- 
tion of  the  whole  volume  to  her,  as  an  expression  of  the 
new  interest  in  men  and  women  which  their  affection  had 
awakened  in  him. 

The  biographers  of  Raphael  do  not  mention  his  having 
written  "  a  century  of  sonnets,"  though  they  say  that  he 
wrote  four.  Guido  Reni  purchased  in  Rome  a  book  of 
Raphael's  containing  a  hundred  designs  drawn  by  his  hand, 
and  this  book  Reni  left  to  his  heir,  Signorini.  Is  it  possible 
that  Browning  has  substituted  "  sonnets  "  for  "  drawings  " 
in  his  poem,  in  order  to  make  his  allusion  more  in  harmony 
with  his  purpose  ?  In  his  Raphael  of  Urbino,  Passavant 
has  this  to  say  of  Raphael's  sonnets  :  — 

"  During  the  early  part  of  his  residence  at  Rome,  in  the 
flower  of  youth,  and  full  of  the  brightest  hopes,  when  he 
was  occupied  with  the  frescoes  for  the  first  Stanza  of  the 
Vatican,  Raphael  fell  in  love,  and  even  endeavored  to  ex- 
press his  passion  in  three  sonnets.  The  rough  copies  of 
these  poems  are  written  on  several  of  the  studies  for  the 
Disputa,  preserved  in  the  collections  of  Vienna,  London, 
Oxford,  and  Montpellier. 

"  These  sonnets  do  not  possess  a  high  poetic  value.  How- 
ever, a  certain  grace  may  be  perceived  in  them,  especially 
in  the  following,  the  original  of  which  is  in  the  British 
Museum  [spelling,  indentation,  etc.,  are  as  in  Passavant]  : 

"  '  Un  pensier  dolce  e  rimembrare  e  godo 

Di  quello  asalto,  ma  piu  gravo  el  danno 

Del  partir,  ch'  io  restai  como  quei  c'  anno 

In  mar  perso  la  st.ella,  s'  el  ver  odo. 
O  lingua  di  parlar  disogli  el  nodo 

A  dir  di  questo  inusitato  inganno 
Ch'  amor  mi  f ece  per  mio  grave  afanno 

Ma  lui  piu  ne  ringratio,  e  lei  ne  lodo. 
L'  ora  sesta  era,  che  1'  ocaso  un  sole 

Aveva  fatto,  e  1'  altro  surce  in  locho 

Ati  piu  da  far  fati,  che  parole. 
Ma  io  restai  pur  vinto  al  mio  gran  focho 

Che  mi  tormenta,  che  dove  1'  on  sole 

Diserar  di  parlar,  piu  riman  fiocho.' 


228  One  Word  More. 

"  But  who  could  this  young  girl  have  been  whom  Raphael 
loved  ?  All  that  we  can  say  with  any  certainty  is  that  she 
was  named  Margarita,  for  she  is  mentioned  by  this  name, 
in  a  note  written  in  the  sixteenth  century  on  the  margin  of 
an  edition  of  Vasari  of  1568,  which  belongs  to  the  barrister 
Giuceppe  Vannutelli  at  Rome.  This  note  is  written  by  the 
side  of  the  passage  in  which  Riviera,  who  served  Raphael's 
mistress,  is  spoken  of  :  JRitratto  di  Margarita  donna  di 
Raffaello  ;  and  by  -the  side  of  these  words,  die  pareva  viva, 
the  name  Margarita  is  repeated. 

"  She  has  also  been  given  the  name  of  the  Fornarina, 
and  according  to  Missirini  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  soda 
manufacturer,  who  lived  near  Santa  Cecilia,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Tiber.  A  small  house,  No.  20,  in  the  street  of 
Santa  Dorotea,  the  windows  of  which  are  decorated  with 
a  pretty  framework  of  earthenware,  is  pointed  out  as  the 
house  where  she  was  born. 

"  The  beautiful  young  girl  was  very  frequently  in  a  little 
garden  adjoining  the  house,  where,  the  wall  not  being  very 
high,  it  was  easy  to  see  her  from  the  outside.  So  the  young 
men,  especially  the  artists  —  always  passionate  admirers  of 
beauty  —  did  not  fail  to  come  and  look  at  her,  by  climbing 
up  above  the  wall. 

"  Raphael  is  said  to  have  seen  her  for  the  first  time  as 
she  was  bathing  her  pretty  feet  in  a  little  fountain  in  the 
garden.  Struck  by  her  perfect  beauty,  he  fell  deeply  in 
love  with  her,  and  after  having  made  acquaintance  with  her, 
and  discovered  that  her  mind  was  as  beautiful  as  her  body, 
he  became  so  much  attached  as  to  be  unable  to  live  without 
her. 

"  This  story  is  certainly  very  attractive,  and  it  is  sup- 
ported by  a  small  picture,  attributed  to  Sebastiano  del 
Piombo,  in  which  Raphael  is  seated  near  the  fountain  in  the 
garden,  with  his  lady-love.  But  recent  investigations  have 
proved  that  this  story  is  a  pure  invention,  and  even  that  the 
name  of  the  Fornarina  was  only  invented  about  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  We  must,  then,  content  our- 
selves with  the  very  simple  statement  of  Vasari  —  that 
Raphael  loved  a  young  girl,  who  lived  with  him.  and  to 
whom  he  was  devotedly  attached  to  the  last  moment  of  his 
life.  .  .  .  Two  sentences  of  Vasari's  and  two  portraits,  are 


One  Word  More.  229 

all  the  authentic  information  we  have  as  to  the  mistress  of 
Raphael." 

One  of  these  portraits  is  in  the  Barherini  palace  in  Rome, 
and  the  other  is  in  the  Pitti  palace  in  Florence.  The  latter 
bears  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  Madonna  di  San  Sisto, 
though  the  features  of  the  Virgin  are  idealized.  "  Her  form 
is  powerful,  "  says  Herr  Passavant,  "  her  costume  sump- 
tuous, her  beautiful  black  eyes  flash,  her  mouth  is  refined 
and  full  of  grace."  In  describing  the  picture  itself,  he  says : 
"  This  remarkable  portrait,  preserved  in  the  Pitti  Gallery, 
Florence,  represents  a  beautiful  Roman  maiden,  seen  three- 
quarters  face,  and  turning  to  the  left.  Her  hair  is  parted 
on  the  forehead,  and  put  back  behind  her  ears,  leaving  the 
perfect  oval  of  her  face  completely  visible.  Her  lustrous 
black  eyes  are  full  of  life  and  fire,  her  complexion  is  pale, 
her  nose  rather  short,  and  her  well-formed  lips  are  parted 
by  a  pleasing  smile.  A  veil,  fastened  behind  her  head,  falls 
gracefully  on  either  side,  completely  covering  the  right  arm, 
a  necklace  of  black  stones  encircles  her  throat,  her  shoulders 
are  covered  with  a  white  chemise,  of  which  even  the  small 
plaits  are  distinctly  visible,  and  a  bodice  trimmed  with  gold, 
with  a  sleeve  of  white  damask,  completes  her  costume.  The 
first  thing  which  strikes  us  in  looking  at  this  portrait  is  its 
singular  resemblance  to  the  Madonna  di  San  Sisto,  at  Dres- 
den ;  of  course  it  is  understood  that  this  is  a  likeness  from 
nature,  and  the  Madonna  an  ideal  creation,  but  at  the  same 
time  it  is  evident  that  the  woman  here  represented  was 
Raphael's  model  for  the  Virgin  in  his  famous  work." 

Grimm  and  Wolzogen  do  not  agree  with  Passavant  as  to 
the  portrait  in  the  Pitti  Gallery,  that  it  is  a  picture  of  the 
Fornarina.  Grimm  is  of  the  opinion  that  the  portrait  was 
not  wholly  painted  by  Raphael,  and  that  it  was  not  the 
original  of  the  Sistine  Madonna.  Of  Raphael's  mistress, 
Wolzogen  says :  "  Soon  after  his  arrival  in  Rome,  he  ap- 
pears to  have  formed  an  affection  which  only  terminated 
with  his  death,  though  it  cannot  be  considered  quite  certain 
whether  it  was  always  one  and  the  same  maiden  whom  he 
loved  during  this  period.  .  .  .  She  may  have  been  the  same 
maiden  who,  according  to  Vasari,  was  in  Raphael's  house  at 
the  time  of  his  death,  and  upon  whom  he  settled  a  -comfort- 
able maintenance  in  his  will,  but  suppositions  of  this  kind 


230  One  Word  More. 

belong  rather  to  the  treasures  of  fable  than  of  truth.  .  .  . 
Certain  it  is,  that  ever  the  same  female  figure  appears  in 
many  of  Raphael's  studies  and  sketches ;  also  a  portrait 
painted  by  him  in  oils  may  lay  decided  claim  to  be  a  like- 
ness of  his  beloved,  even  if  not  of  her  whom  we  designate 
the  Fornarina.  This  picture,  probably  belonging  to  an 
earlier  period,  is  not  in  the  Barberini  Palace  in  Rome ;  it 
represents  a  young  maiden,  not  completely  dressed,  having 
only  shortly  before  left  her  bath  ;  she  is  sitting  in  a  grove 
of  myrtles  and  laurel-trees,  her  head  encircled  with  a  turban- 
like  yellow-striped  handkerchief ;  her  right  hand  presses  a 
transparent  linen  garment  to  her  bosom,  while  her  lap,  on 
which  her  left  hand  rests,  is  covered  with  red  drapery.  Her 
left  hand  is  adorned  with  a  gold  bracelet,  and  on  this 
Raphael  has  written  his  own  name.  .  .  . 

"  But  whether  the  una  sua  Donna,  — •  who,  according  to 
Vasari,  at  one  time  so  completely  drew  away  the  master 
from  his  work,  that  his  friend  Chigi  at  length  could  devise 
no  other  means  than  to  bring  the  beautiful  woman  to  him 
on  his  painter's  scaffold,  where  she  sat  the  whole  day  by  his 
side,  and  he  could  carry  on  his  work  without  being  deprived 
of  her  company  —  whether  this  charmer  was  identical  with 
the  so-called  Fornarina,  and  whether  the  four  sonnets  which 
were  written  in  Raphael's  handwriting  on  the  back  of  some 
studies  for  the  wall  painting  of  the  Disjmta,  and  which  are 
still  in  preservation,  were  addressed  to  this  same  beloved 
one  or  to  some  other,  is  not  at  all  certain.  So  far  alone  we 
can  safely  assert,  —  that  these  ardent  poems  were  written 
during  the  artist's  residence  in  Rome  (probably  in  1508), 
and  that  he  finished  them  off  with  great  care,  in  spite  of  the 
overwhelming  passion  to  which  they  certainly  owe  their 
origin.  And  I  confess  that  this  latter  circumstance  is  to  me 
far  more  interesting  than  all  the  investigations  for  details  of 
Raphael's  amours  ;  for  they  excite  the  imagination  tenfold 
on  account  of  the  obscurity  in  which  they  are  wrapped.  We 
perceive  again,  moreover,  from  this  fact,  that  the  master 
ever  endeavored  to  make  everything  which  he  undertook  as 
perfe.ct  as  possible,  and  we  thus  gain  a  valuable  addition  to 
the  completion  of  that  portrait  of  his  noble  character  which 
it  is  our  object  to  delineate." 

The  four  sonnets  written  by  Raphael  are  all  given  in  the 


One  Word  More.  231 

original  Italian  in  Baron  Alfred  von  Wolzogen's  Raphael 
Santi:  His  Life  and  his  Works,  as  translated  into  English 
by  F.  E.  Bunnett.  The  translations  given  in  the  same 
work  are  here  reproduced :  — 

I. 

'Tis  sweet  in  thought  to  embrace  thee  once  again! 

But  waking  from  my  dream,  thy  loss  comes  back 

And  like  some  mariner  who  has  lost  his  track, 

And  finds  a  starless  heaven,  I  remain. 
Let  my  tongue  burst  its  fetters,  and  disclose 

How  Love  destroyed  me  with  his  cunning  ways, 

And  drew  me  down  to  my  own  loss  and  woes ; 

But,  yet  I  thank  his  wiles,  and  her  I  praise. 
Twas  even,  and  one  sun  had  long  declined, 

When  in  its  place  that  other  sun  arose 

With  speechless  action,  utterance  to  find. 
Thus  have  I  been  by  cruel  thoughts  assailed 

With  their  tormenting  power ;  for  when  I  pined 

To  vent  my  grief  in  words,  all  utterance  failed. 

II. 

Love,  that  ensnar'st  me  with  thy  magic  light 

From  eyes  that  melt  me  into  hope  and  fears ; 

Like  snow  on  roses  lying  she  appears 

From  word  and  actions  to  inspire  delight. 
Until  so  warm  my  flame,  that  no  sea  wave 

Could  quench  the  burning  ardor  that  I  know  ; 

Yet  revelling  in  the  flame  I  feel  its  glow, 

Nor  wish  from  its  consuming  power  to  save. 
How  sweetly  passive  was  she  when  controll'd ; 

Throwing  her  white  arms  as  a  chain  around, 

Until  it  seemed  like  death  to  loose  their  hold. 
Yet  pause  I  here,  tho'  still  my  thoughts  abound ; 

For  joys  excessive,  fatal  powers  enfold ; 

Yet  while  I  cease,  to  thee  my  thoughts  are  bound. 

III. 

As  Paul  from  mortal  ear  those  words  withheld 

Which  he  had  heard  in  Paradise  above, 

So  round  my  heart  is  drawn  a  veil  of  love, 

By  which  my  thoughts  in  secrecy  are  held. 
Hence  all  I  did  and  all  that  sight  revealed, 

From  my  own  bosom  none  shall  dare  to  know ; 

And  my  dark  locks  to  silvery  white  shall  grow, 

Ere  night  shall  open  all  that  lies  concealed. 
Yet  see  my  passion,  and  vouchsafe  this  grace, 

That  being  thine,  it  may  be  granted  me, 

That  thou  wouldst  burn  a  little  for  my  flame ; 


232  One  Word  More. 

And  if  my  prayers  with  thee  may  find  a  place, 
Ne'er  would  I  pause  thy  piteous  help  to  claim 
Until  the  powers  of  utterance  silent  be. 

IV. 

Sad  thought !  that  unto  thee  I  gave  my  heart, 
Seeking  for  peace,  and  finding  nought  but  pain ; 
Seest  thou  the  bitter  anguish  and  the  smart 
With  which  life's  fairest  years  are  from  me  ta'en  ? 

But  ye,  my  efforts,  and  thou,  aching  grief, 
Waken  the  thought  that  had  in  slumber  lain, 
And  point  to  paths,  ascending  which  I  gain 
Sublimer  heights  that  may  afford  relief. 

The  last  sonnet  is  not  complete  ;  but  it  expresses  a  differ- 
ent spirit  than  the  completed  ones,  no  less  of  passion,  but  a 
passion  more  moral  in  purpose,  and  deeply  conscious  of  the 
need  to  use  genius  for  the  sake  of  true  artistic  accomplish- 
ment. 

Raphael  painted  as  many  as  fifty  Madonnas,  several  of 
which  are  mentioned  in  the  poem.  The  Sistine  Madonna 
is  in  the  Dresden  Gallery.  The  Madonna  di  Foligno  is  in 
the  Vatican.  In  a  note  to  Mr.  W.  J.  Rolfe,  Browning 
wrote :  "  The  Madonna  at  Florence  is  that  called  del 
Grandrica,  which  represents  her  as  '  appearing  to  a  votary 
in  a  vision '  —  so  say  the  describers  ;  it  is  in  the  earlier 
manner,  and  very  beautiful.  I  think  I  meant  La  Belle 
Jardiniere  —  but  am  not  sure  —  for  the  picture  in  the 
Louvre."  Of  the  Madonna  del  Granduca,  Passavant  says  : 
"  The  bold,  commanding,  and  luminous  style  in  which  the 
painting  stands  out  from  the  background  makes  the  figure 
and  divine  expression  of  the  head  impressive.  Thanks  to 
all  these  qualities  united,  this  Madonna  produces  the  effect 
of  a  supernatural  apparition.  In  short,  it  is  one  of  the 
masterpieces  of  Raphael."  The  Louvre  Madonna  is  seated 
in  the  midst  of  a  garden,  in  which  there  are  lilies  — hence 
the  name. 

Dante's  love  for  Beatrice,  as  celebrated  in  his  La  Vita 
Nuova  and  Divina  Commedia,  is  the  subject  of  the  second 
reference  in  the  poem.  Perhaps  no  woman  has  ever  been 
celebrated  with  a  more  perfect  affection  than  that  which 
Dante  gave  to  Beatrice,  and  yet  it  is  difficult  to  say  how 
much  of  it  is  real  and  how  much  the  idealization  of  the  poet. 


One  Word  More.  233 

The  pen  corroded  refers  to  the  manner  in  which  Dante 
punishes  in  his  great  poem  those  who  were  his  personal 
enemies.  —  The  live  mans  flesh  for  parchment  refers  to 
no  special  incident  either  in  the  life  of  Dante  or  in  the 
Commedia. 

Lionardo  Aretino  said :  "  Dante  was  an  excellent 
draughtsman."  Giotto  was  his  intimate  friend  ;  and  it  is 
said  that  Dante  suggested  many  of  the  finest  of  Giotto's 
pictures.  Giotto  tried  to  do  in  art  what  Dante  did  in  poetry, 

—  open  it  to  the  understanding  of  the  people.     Dante  un- 
doubtedly shared  in  the  artistic  spirit  of  his  time,  and  was 
fully  capable  of  appreciating  it.     On  this  point  of  Dante's 
interest  in  painting  we  have  the  testimony  of  Boccaccio,  in 
his  biography  of  the  poet.     "  He  loved  passionately  the  fine 
arts,  "  wrote  Boccaccio,  "  even  those  which  —  like  painting 

—  were  not   immediately  connected  with   poetry.     In  his 
youth  he  had  taken  lessons  of  Cimabue,  the  last  and  the 
most  celebrated  of  the  painters  who  composed  in   what  is 
called  the  Greek  manner ;  he  was  afterwards  very  intimate 
with  Giotto,  the  successor  of  Cimabue,  whom  he  eclipsed,  and 
the  real  creator  of  modern  painting.      Dante  had  intimate 
relations  with  the  celebrated  singers  and  musicians  of  his 
time  ;  being  gifted  with  a  fine  voice,  he  sang  agreeably,  and 
with  much  enthusiasm  ;  it  was  his  favorite  way  of  express- 
ing the  emotions  of  his  soul,  more  especially  when  they  were 
of  a  gentle  and  happy  nature."     The  reference  in  the  poem 
is  to   the  thirty-fifth  section  of   Dante's  La   Vita  Nuova, 
which  was  written  on  the  first  anniversary  of  the  death  of 
Beatrice,   June   9,  1291.     As   translated   by  Prof.  C.  E. 
Norton,  Dante  said  of  his  effort  to  paint  a  picture :  — 

"  On  that  day  on  which  the  year  was  complete  since  this 
lady  was  made  one  of  the  denizens  of  life  eternal,  I  was 
seated  in  a  place  where,  having  her  in  mind,  I  was  drawing 
an  angel  upon  certain  tablets.  And  while  I  was  drawing 
it,  I  turned  mine  eyes  and  saw  at  my  side  men  to  whom  it 
was  meet  to  do  honor.  They  were  looking  on  what  I  did, 
and,  as  was  afterwards  told  me,  they  had  been  there  already 
some  time  before  L  became  aware  of  it.  When  I  saw  them 
I  rose,  and,  saluting  them,  said,  '  Another  was  just  now  with 
me,  and  on  that  account  I  was  in  thought.'  And  when 
they  had  gone  away,  I  returned  unto  my  work,  namely, 


234  On  the  Poet. 

that  of  drawing  figures  of  angels ;  and  while  doing  this  a 
thought  came  to  me  of  saying  words  in  rhyme,  as  if  for  an 
anniversary  poem  of  her,  and  of  addressing  those  persons 
who  had  come  to  me." 

"  Men  to  whom  it  was  meet  to  do  honor  "  Browning 
translates  as  "  certain  people  of  importance."  It  does  not 
appear  from  the  Vita  Nuova  that  these  men  of  importance 
had  any  design  against  Dante,  as  Browning  seems  to  in- 
dicate. 

Browning  next  compares  himself  with  Moses,  as  he  is 
described  in  Numbers  xx.  and  elsewhere  in  the  Pentateuch. 

The  Samminiato  of  the  fifteenth  section  is  the  church 
of  San  Miniato,  Florence,  a  conspicuous  object  in  that  city. 
"Samminiato"  gives  the  proper  pronunciation  of  the  name. — 
Zoroaster  was  the  founder  of  the  Persian  religion,  of  which 
the  Zend  Avesta  is  the  sacred  book.  He  was  in  the  habit 
of  pacing  a  terrace  when  meditating  on  the  wonders  of  the 
heavens,  which  are  so  important  in  his  religion.  —  Galileo 
had  a  turret  for  his  astronomical  observations.  —  Browning 
was  a  very  great  admirer  of  Keats,  as  may  be  seen  by 
tracing  out  the  references  to  him  in  the  present  volume. 

See  Rolfe,  Sharp,  and  Nettleship. 

On  the  Poet :  Objective  and  Subjective.  In  1852, 
Moxon,  London,  published  Letters  of  Percy  Bysshe  Shel- 
ley, which  purported  to  be  a  series  of  twenty-five  newly 
discovered  letters  of  Shelley's,  which  had  never  before  been 
in  print.  For  this  volume  Browning  was  asked  by  Moxon 
to  write  an  introductory  essay,  which  he  did,  and  dated  it 
"  Dec.,  1851,"  having  written  it  in  Paris. 

After  the  volume  was  ready  for  publication,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  letters  were  forgeries.  This  discovery  was 
accidentally  made  by  Francis  Turner  Palgrave,  who  found 
in  one  of  these  letters  a  portion  of  an  article  which  his 
father,  Sir  Francis  Palgrave,  had  contributed  to  the  Quar- 
terly Review,  in  1840,  the  subject  being  Florence.  Moxon 
thereupon  withheld  the  edition  and  began  to  make  inquiries 
about  the  letters.  The  post-office  authorities  after  examina- 
tion pronounced  them  genuine.  A  more  careful  examination 
showed  that  the  post-marks  were  not  the  same  as  genuine 
letters  mailed  in  Italian  cities  at  the  time  indicated  on  the 
Shelley  letters.  So  far,  however,  as  concerned  the  seals  of  the 


Ottima.  —  Over  the  Sea  our  Galleys  went.      235 

letters,  the  handwriting,  their  manner  and  matter,  they  ap- 
peared to  be  genuine.  The  letters  were  bought  of  a  well- 
dressed,  lady-like  young  person,  who  gave  no  account  of 
herself.  It  was  clearly  proved,  however,  that  the  letters 
were  forgeries.  Moxoii  at  once  suppressed  the  edition,  half 
a  dozen  copies  only  having  passed  out  of  the  publishers' 
hands.  The  letters  have  disappeared  from  Shelley  litera- 
ture, the  essay  written  by  Browning,  on  the  functions  of  the 
poet,  alone  remaining  ;  it  was  reprinted  in  1881,  as  the 
first  number  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  with  the 
consent  of  the  poet.  In  a  second  edition  it  was  printed 
with  A  Bibliography  of  Robert  Browning,  compiled  by 
Frederick  J.  Furnivall,  1882.  In  his  "foretalk"  to  the 
essay  Mr.  Furnivall  said  :  "  The  main  subject  of  the  essay 
is  Shelley,  his  life,  his  nature,  work,  and  art.  And  to  any 
reader  of  Pauline  and  Memorabilia,  it  will  be  no  surprise 
to  find  that  it  was  the  dream  of  Browning's  boyhood  to 
render  some  signal  service  to  Shelley's  fame  and  memory  ; 
while  to  the  student  and  lover  of  Shelley,  what  can  be  more 
worthful  than  the  criticism  and  loving  tribute  of  a  mind 
and  spirit  like  Browning's  ?  But  it  was  not  the  praise  or 
estimate  of  Shelley  that  drew  me  to  this  essay ;  it  was 
Browning's  statement  of  his  own  aim  in  his  own  work,  both 
as  objective  and  subjective  poet,  that  so  much  interested  me 
and  that  makes  the  essay  a  necessity  to  every  student  of 
Browning  who  would  understand  him," 

The  title  given  to  the  -essay  in  the  reprint  is  Mr.  Furni- 
vall's.  In  the  Shelley  letters  it  was  called  Introductory 
Essay. 

See  Browning  Bibliography,  and  Poet-Lore,  1 :  592,  for 
an  account  of  the  Shell&y  Letters,  the  detection  of  the 
forgery,  and  the  writing  of  the  essay  by  Browning. 

Ottima.  The  wife  of  Luca,  who  has,  with  her  para- 
mour Sebald,  just  murdered  her  husband,  in  Pippa  Passes. 

Overhead  the  tree-tops  meet.  The  song  of  Pippa 
in  Pippa  Passes,  as  she  nears  the  house  of  the  bishop,  vol. 
i.  p.  364,  Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works. 

Over  the  sea  our  galleys  went.  The  third  song  in 
Paracelsus,  sung  by  Paracelsus  himself,  vol.  i.  p.  96,  Riv- 
erside edition  of  Browning's  Works.  This  song  has  been 
set  to  music  by  Ethel  Harraden  ;  London,  C.  Jeffreys. 


236  Pacchiarotto. 

Pacchiarotto  and  how  he  worked  in  Distemper  : 
with  other  Poems.  London.  July,  1876 :  Smith,  Elder 
and  Co.  Pages,  i.  -  viii.,  1-241 ;  Pacchiarotto  occupied 
pages  4-46.  The  "  other  poems  "  were  :  At  the  Mermaid  ; 
House  ;  Shop ;  Pisgah-Sights ;  Fears  and  Scruples  ;  Nat- 
ural Magic  ;  Magical  Nature  ;  Bifurcation  ;  Numpholeptos  ; 
Appearances  ;  St.  Martin's  Summer ;  Hei-ye"  Kiel ;  A  For- 
giveness ;  Cenciaja ;  Filippo  Baldinucci  on  the  Privilege  of 
Burial ;  Epilogue. 

Jacopo  Pacchiarotto  is  often  mistaken  for  Girolamo  del 
Pacchia ;  and  it  is  this  mistaken  identity  which  the  poet 
discusses  in  the  opening  part  of  the  poem.  Pacchia  was 
the  son  of  an  Hungarian  cannon-founder,  and  was  born  in 
Siena,  in  1477.  He  became  a  member  of  the  revolution- 
ary club  called  "  Bardotti,"  and  when  the  club  was  broken 
up  by  the  authorities  in  1535,  he  disappeared.  Nothing  is 
known  of  him  after  that  date.  He  did  some  good  work  as 
a  painter,  his  best  piece  being  the  Nativity  of  the  Virgin 
in  the  chapel  of  Saint  Bernardino,  Siena.  His  pictures 
were  at  one  time  ascribed  to  Perugino,  and  then  to  Pacchia- 
rotto. It  is  only  quite  recently  that  more  careful  researches 
have  served  to  identify  him  as  a  separate  individuality. 

Pacchiarotto  was  born  in  Siena  in  1474.  He  became  a 
painter  and  worked  in  the  manner  of  Perugino ;  but  no 
anthenticated  work  of  his  has  any  merit.  In  1530  he  joined 
the  "  Libertini  "  and  "  Popolani,"  which  sought  a  greater 
measure  of  popular  liberty  by  revolutionary  methods.  To 
the  same  ends  he  connected  himself  with  the  "  Bardotti," 
in  1534  ;  and  when  this  organization  was  suppressed,  the 
following  year,  he  was  obliged  to  go  into  hiding.  The  Ob- 
servantine  Fathers  concealed  him  in  a  tomb  in  the  church 
of  St.  John  ;  but  the  space  was  narrow,  he  had  to  lie  by  the 
side  of  a  recently  buried  corpse,  he  became  covered  with 
vermin,  and  by  the  second  day  he  was  little  better  than  a 
corpse  himself.  Quietly  he  went  back  to  his  work,  after  the 
excitement  of  the  moment  had  passed  by.  In  1539  he  was 
banished  from  the  city,  but  he  was  recalled  the  following 
year,  and  soon  after  died. 

The  old  accounts  of  Pacchiarotto  say  that  he  fled  to 
France  in  1535,  where  he  joined  II  Rossi ;  and  there  these 
accounts  say  he  died.  Also  various  works  are  falsely  at- 


Pacchiarotto.  237 

tributed  to  him,  which  are  really  the  productions  of  Pacchia. 
Some  accounts  make  Pacchia  another  name  for  Pacchia- 
rotto. 

Contemporary  with  Pacchiarotto  lived  Gianantonio  Bazzi, 
who  as  a  painter  was  called  II  Sodoraa.  The  family  name 
of  this  painter  was  for  a  long  time  known  as  Razzi,  owing 
to  the  misreading  of  a  document.  It  is  now  proved  to  have 
been  Bazzi.  It  is  to  this  misnamed  painter,  and  his  rival 
Beccafumi,  that  the  poet  refers  at  the  end  of  the  second 
section  of  the  poem. 

The  commentary  added  to  the  Florence  edition  of 
Vasari's  Lives,  1855,  gives  an  account  of  Pacchiarotto.  It 
is  this  which  Browning  followed  in  writing  his  poem. 
What  is  there  said  of  his  connection  with  political  affairs  is 
here  reproduced. 

"  Tumults  and  bloodshed  were  spread  throughout  the 
land,  principally  from  the  deeds  of  certain  renegades 
called  the  Venturieri,  with  whom  our  Paechiarotto  having 
been  identified,  it  happened  that  one  night  whilst,  as  was 
their  custom,  they  were  scouring  the  streets  with  loud  cries 
and  defying  the  Nine,  the  foi'mer  were  assaulted  by  the  lat- 
ter unawares,  and  threatened  with  immediate  death  unless 
they  left  the  city.  .  .  . 

"II  Pacchiarotto,  leading  his  company  of  Stalloreggi 
within  the  gates,  had  comported  himself  very  bravely  in  all 
these  factions.  But,  being  of  an  excitable  and  uneasy 
disposition,  easy  to  take  offense,  and  ready  to  pick  a  quar- 
rel at  any  moment,  it  ill  suited  him  to  rest  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets.'  There  were  also  some  reckless  and  discon- 
tented men  among  the  poorer  classes,  who  were  his  com- 
panions, and  they  went  about  secretly  trying  tor  produce 
disturbances,  which  having  reached  the  knowledge  of  the 
government  they  caught  dal  Bargello,  and  confined  him  in 
his  palace  with  the  admonition  not  to  leave  it  under  pen- 
alty of  one  hundred  golden  ducats.  II  Pacchiarotto  was  so 
angry  that  he  made  use  of  very  disrespectful  language 
against  the  State,  for  which  he  was  confined  six  months  at 
Talamone,  and  put  on  soldier's  stipends  in  the  company 
of  Captain  Bartolommeo  Peretti.  But  at  the  instigation  of 
Achille  Salvi,  five  months  of  his  imprisonment  were  revoked, 
and  he  was  sent  at  the  end  of  his  sentence  to  his  estates 
in  Viteccio. 


238  Pacchiarotto. 

"  During  the  exile  of  Fabio  and  the  murder  of  Alessan- 
dro  Bichi,  a  new  sect  of  people  sprung  up  in  Siena,  who 
from  their  open  avowals  of  lawless  principles  were  called  the 
Libertines.  These,  having  become  arrogant,  on  account  of 
success  having  been  on  their  side  in  every  faction  against 
the  tyrants  of  the  city,  as  they  called  them,  and  even 
against  foreign  enemies,  these  Libertines  therefore  med- 
dled with  every  important  scheme  of  the  Republic,  and  tried 
to  gain  all  the  honors  and  high  offices  for  themselves.  .  .  . 

"  They  called  upon  the  common  people  to  aid  them,  mak- 
ing many  promises  to  help  them  in  return,  which  was  the 
occasion  that  the  common  people  and  artisans  of  lowest  ex- 
traction were  turned  aside  from  their  daily  life,  and  their 
time  occupied  in  attending  meetings  where  they  listened  to 
incendiary  language  against  the  affairs  of  the  State.  .  .  . 

"  Out  of  these  meetings  sprung  the  Congregation  or 
Academy  called  the  Bardotti,  a  name  which  really  had  no 
other  significance  than  that  which  they  chose  to  give  it :  an 
easy  life  at  the  public  expense.  This  Academy  had  its  laws 
and  statutes.  .' .  .  They  kept,  as  their  principal  festival,  the 
feast  of  Saint  Catherine  of  Siena,  and  every  new  member 
paid  ten  soldi  as  an  entrance  fee  and  three  soldi  every 
month.  In  the  reunions  which  the  Bardotti  held,  they  used 
to  read  the  works  of  Livy,  Vegetius,  and  Machiavelli,  on  the 
arts  of  war,  or  sometimes  they  exercised  with  the  broad- 
sword or  drilled,  in  order  to  be  quick  and  dexterous  in 
assaults  and  battle.  To  this  effect,  they  had  engaged  at  a 
high  price  two  of  the  most  skillful  fencing  masters  in  the 
city.  At  certain  seasons  of  the  year,  they  had  representa- 
tions of  some  Greek  or  Roman  story,  in  order  better  to  set 
forth  their  achievements  in  this  direction.  To  any  one, 
whom  they  heard  had  in  any  way  spoken  unfavorably  of  the 
Academy  or  its  associates,  they  sent  circulars  and  an  open 
challenge,  asserting  themselves  ready  to  maintain  their 
honor  and  their  rights.  If  any  of  the  associates  by  ill  luck 
were  sick,  in  exile,  or  in  any  other  dire  necessity,  they 
promptly  and  tenderly  succored  them  with  money  and  in 
person. 

"  Among  the  principal  and  most  ardent  of  the  Bardotti 
was  our  Giacomo,  whose  head  was  so  turned  by  the  whims 
and  vagaries  of  the  State,  that  among  many  of  his  foolish 


Pacchiarotto.  239 

pranks,  it  is  related,  that  in  a  room  of  his  house  which  was 
situated  on  the  Via  Laterino,  he  had  painted  many  faces, 
so  that,  standing  in  the  midst  of  them,  he  appeared  to  be 
holding  a  long  discussion,  as  if  they  in  turn  replied,  and  as 
their  lord  revered  and  honored  him.  These  meetings  of 
the  Bardotti  and  their  intentions  caused  great  distrust  and 
anxiety  to  the  government,  which  feared  lest  their  words 
and  their  counsels  should  produce  some  bad  effect ;  which, 
in  fact,  was  not  long  in  coming  to  pass.  In  1533  the  city 
was  reduced  to  famine.  .  .  .  The  Bardotti  held  a  large 
gathering  in  the  church  of  San  Francesco,  and  there  con- 
sulted what  to  do.  They  issued  forth,  having  held  mass  in 
the  square  of  the  Duomo,  and  resolved  to  scour  the  city,  and 
to  kill  every  citizen  whom  they  should  meet.  But  not  being 
able  to  decide  upon  any  one  to  be  their  head  and  guide  of 
this  undertaking,  they  suddenly  took  fright  and  disbanded 
quietly. 

"In  consequence  of  the  magistrates  giving  little  impor- 
tance to  this  proceeding,  the  Bardotti  grew  more  insolent  and 
bold,  and  no  longer  concealed  their  animosity  against  the 
nobles  and  the  government.  Therefore  several  influential 
citizens,  whom  the  existing  state  of  affairs  much  displeased, 
had  an  interview  with  the  rulers  of  the  city.  .  .  .  They 
resolved  that,  owing  to  the  great  and  impending  danger, 
summary  remedies  must  be  applied,  that  having  vainly  used 
clemency,  they  now  had  to  apply  severity.  To  give  proper 
effect  to  these  intentions,  they  only  awaited  an  opportunity ; 
it  was  not  long  in  presenting  itself.  A  butcher  having 
wounded  one  of  the  magistrates  of  the  Quattro  del  Sale, 
was  suddenly  seized  by  the  sheriff,  and  without  formal  pro- 
ceeding, fastened  by  the  neck  to  the  window  of  the  palace. 
And  the  same  condign  punishment  was  administered  a  few 
days  afterwards  to  another  one  of  the  common  people. 

"  The  Bardotti,  believing  circumstances  to  be  of  bad 
augury  for  them,  had  recourse  to  the  aid  and  counsels  of  a 
few  citizens  who  formerly  had  favored  them  ;  but  receiving 
from  them  only  reproofs  for  their  misdeeds,  and  no  promises 
to  protect  them  from  justice,  and  terrified  by  their  im- 
pending fate,  they  fled  and  hid  themselves.  II  Pacchiarotto, 
likewise,  seized  with  great  terror,  wandered  about  like 
one  demented  throughout  the  city,  thinking  the  sheriff  was 


240  Pacchiarotto. 

always  dogging  his  footsteps  in  order  to  seize  him  and  take 
him  to  prison.  Finally  he  went  into  the  parish  church  of 
San  Giovanni,  and  saw  a  tomb  where  but  recently  had  been 
covered  a  dead  body ;  he  pushed  it  aside,  and  fixed  himself 
there,  as  best  he  could,  and  covered  the  tomb  over  with  the 
stone.  Here  he  remained  in  intense  suffering  of  mind  and 
body  during  two  days,  at  the  end  of  which  time,  half  dead 
with  hunger  and  the  insupportable  stench  of  the  corpse,  and 
covered  with  vermin,  he  fled  through  one  of  the  gates  of 
the  city,  which  leads  to  the  house  of  refuge  of  the  brothers 
of  the  Observance.  La  Balia,  learning  the  good  effects 
that  had  been  produced  by  the  prompt  and  severe  justice 
which  befell  the  people  of  the  lower  classes,  wished  to  pro- 
ceed to  at  once  extirpate  to  the  very  roots  the  cause  of  the 
evil.  He  therefore  ordered  that  the  Bardotti,  under  penalty 
of  his  wrath,  must  desist  from  holding  their  assemblies,  and 
the  Academy  by  that  name  be  dissolved.  .  .  . 

"  II  Pacchiarotto,  when  he  thought  the  storm  had  passed, 
quietly  returned  to  Siena,  and,  having  been  made  aware 
by  bitter  experience  what  his  follies  had  cost  him,  he  re- 
solved to  apply  himself  to  his  work  and  no  longer  meddle 
with  the  affairs  of  State.  But  after  a  few  years  discords 
arose,  not  only  between  the  people  and  the  rulers,  but 
among  the  people  themselves.  The  rulers,  who  trembled 
lest  their  severities  should  give  birth  to  new  disorders,  be- 
gan to  diligently  look  into  the  lives  of  those,  who,  in  the 
past  tumults,  had  shown  themselves  the  most  unruly  and  in- 
solent. Among  others  II  Pacchiarotto,  on  account  of  his 
misdeeds,  was  found  to  merit  chastisement,  and  therefore  he 
was  put  under  perpetual  banishment,  and  deprived  of  all 
rights  in  the  city  and  in  the  dominion,  the  17th  November, 
1539,  pardon  being  promised  to  whomever  should  kill  him. 

"  Our  painter  was  now  forced  to  wander  in  foreign  lands. 
But  when  nine  months  had  elapsed,  Girolamo's  wife,  who 
was  poor  and  burdened  with  two  daughters,  applied  to  La 
Balia,  who  was  touched  with  compassion  and  remitted  his 
sentence  on  the  17th  August,  1540,  giving  him  strict  orders 
not  to  reenter  the  city  without  permission,  under  penalty  of 
his  pardon  being  revoked.  Thus,  shattered  in  mind  and 
body,  and  with  the  weight  of  years  beginning  to  oppress 
him,  he  was  conducted  to  his  estates  in  Viteccio,  where, 


Pacchiarotto.  241 

after  so  many  perils  and  hardships,  only  a  few  years  were 
left  for  him  to  pass  from  this  life  to  the  next !  " 

The  same  work  gives  a  sketch  of  the  life  of  Girolamo 
del  Pacchia,  to  whom  Browning  frequently  refers  through- 
out the  poem.  Many  of  the  poet's  allusions  will  be  best 
understood  by  reading  in  full  the  Vasari  account  of  this 
painter's  life  :  — 

"  There  lived  and  worked  in  Siena,  at  the  same  time  as 
Giacomo  Pacchiarotto,  another  painter  whose  name  was 
Girolamo  del  Pacchia,  whose  memory,  through  the  injustice 
of  fate,  has  remained  until  now  so  confused  and  uncertain, 
enveloped  in  clouds  as  it  were,  that  for  that  very  reason  we 
seek  to  bring  it  to  light,  to  celebrate  it  in  the  most  suitable 
manner  that  his  virtues  justly  demand.  The  principal 
reason  of  this  mistake  has  been  occasioned  by  the  similarity 
of  his  surname  with  that  of  Giacomo,  of  whom  we  have  been 
talking.  Because  students  reading  in  Vasari  that  a  Giro- 
lamo del  Pacchia  painted  in  competition  with  Sodoma  in 
the  oratory  of  San  Bernardino  di  Siena,  they  would  natu- 
rally conjecture  that  Giacomo  Pacchiarotto  alone  was  meant, 
to  whom  without  any  discernment  would  be  in  consequence 
assigned  not  only  all  those  works  that  were  his,  but  besides 
other  and  better  ones,  and  those  which  had  been  much 
more  carefully  painted  by  the  hand  of  our  Girolamo :  there- 
fore, out  of  two  workmen  they  would  only  make  one. 

"  The  subject  of  our  sketch  was  born  in  Agram,  a  city 
of  Hungary.  His  father  was  Giovanni  di  Giovanni,  a 
cannon  maker,  who,  having  come  to  live  in  Siena,  married 
there  a  woman  by  the  name  of  Apollonia  di  Antonio  del 
Zazzera,  and  this  son  was  born  to  them  in  Januaiy,  1477. 
His  father  died  when  he  was  about  a  year  old.  Girolamo 
remained  with  his  mother,  who,  being  very  poor,  had  great 
difficulty  in  educating  her  son.  When  a  young  man  he 
was  apprenticed  to  the  best  painter  in  the  city,  in  order  to 
leai-n  drawing ;  he  remained  several  years  and  became  quite 
proficient  in  drawing  and  painting.  Then  he  went  to 
Florence,  where  he  visited  and  studied  the  works  of  the 
masters  then  in  the  best  repute.  From  that  time  until  1500 
he  was  at  Rome,  where  he  remained  some  time  studying 
and  working.  Among  the  works  which  he  made  in  that 
city  is  a  painting  of  the  Transfiguration,  in  the  church  at 


242  Pacchiarotto. 

Araceli.  Although  some  assert  it  to  be  by  Girolamo  da 
Sermoneta,  nevertheless  we,  following  more  readily  the 
opinions  of  Padre  Ugurgieri,  proclaim  it  to  be  by  our  Giro- 
lamo. It  appears  to  us  that  a  work  called  Raphaelesque  by 
Lanzi  cannot  be  by  the  hand  of  Sermoneta,  who  began  to 
work  and  be  known  when  Pacchia  was  dead ;  therefore  it 
is  reasonable  that,  in  the  works  of  the  Sienese  painter, 
rather  than  in  those  of  Sermoneta,  who  was  the  scholar  of 
Perino  del  Vaga  and  lived  long  after  him,  is  sometimes  met 
the  manner  of  dell'  Urbinate. 

"  Girolamo  returned  after  a  few  years  to  Siena,  and  in 
1508  he  painted  for  the  monks  of  Certosa  di  Pontignano 
a  picture  of  Our  Lady,  to  whom  Saint  Bruno  and  Saint 
Catherine  are  being  presented  by  Saint  Peter.  .  .  . 

"  There  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  oratory  of  the  aforesaid 
San  Bernardino  works  of  Girolamo,  painted  about  the  year 
1518,  in  the  form  of  three  frescoes.  In  one  of  these,  which 
extends  on  both  sides  of  the  altar,  is  represented  the  Annun- 
ciation and  the  Angel ;  in  another,  which  is  on  the  walls 
at  the  left,  as  you  look  when  you  enter  the  church,  is  the 
Nativity  of  the  Virgin  Mary.  In  the  third  is  depicted 
Saint  Bernardino  of  Siena.  And  although  he  had  for  rivals 
II  Sodoma  and  II  Beccafumi,  who  were  painting  at  the 
same  time,  he  was  in  no  wise  inferior  to  them  ;  he  undoubt- 
edly excelled  Beccafumi,  who  in  his  designs  showed  very 
poor  and  meagre  work,  whilst  the  figures  of  Girolamo  are 
treated  in  a  broad  manner,  with  glowing  robes,  and  expres- 
sion, particularly  noticeable  in  his  female  faces,  of  great 
gentleness  and  naturalness.  11  Pacchia  painted  in  the  same 
year  for  the  Frati  Predicatori  di  San  Spirito  an  altar-piece 
representing  the  Annunciation,  in  which  the  perspective  of 
columns  and  arches  is  so  fine,  and  the  little  cherubs  sitting 
on  the  supports  of  the  arches  so  natural  and  life-like,  that  it 
is  most  delightful  to  see.  This  picture  is  no  longer  to  be 
seen  in  its  place,  having  been  transported  to  the  gallery  of 
the  Institute  of  Fine  Arts.  Likewise  in  the  same  church  is 
another  picture,  in  which  may  be  seen  Mary  ascended  to 
heaven  and  crowned  by  her  Divine  Son,  with  a  halo  of  most 
lovely  angels,  while  underneath  are  kneeling  Saint  Peter 
and  Saint  Paul.  In  the  church  of  Saint  Christopher,  at  the 
altar  of  the  Bandinelli,  there  is  a  Madonna  with  the  infant 


Palma.  —  Pambo.  243 

in  her  arms  seated  on  a  throne,  with,  at  the  sides,  directly 
under  her  feet,  Saint  Luke  the  Evangelist,  and  the  blessed 
Raimondo  of  the  Order  of  Camaldoli,  who  has  chained  up 
the  devil.  This  work  is  much  prized,  and  is  truly  very 
beautiful  in  all  its  details.  It  is  one  of  the  best  that  he 
ever  did.  He  also  painted  a  picture  for  the  high  altar  of 
the  Society  of  San  Sebastian  in  Camollia,  in  1519.  .  .  . 

"  Girolamo  joined  the  Society  of  Rozzi  with  the  name  of 
Dondolone  ;  and  he  became  a  member  of  the  Bardotti  in 
the  year  1533.  When  and  where  he  died  is  not  known,  but 
it  is  certain  that  after  1535  all  traces  of  him  in  Siena  are 
lost.  Therefore  the  opinion  of  Julius  Mancini,  a  Sienese 
author,  does  not  seem  unlikely,  when  he  affirms  that  II 
Pacchia,  after  the  dispersion  and  overthrow  of  the  Bardotti, 
fled  to  France,  and  painted  for  King  Francis  at  Fontaine- 
bleau  some  pictures  which  are  signed  Rosso,  painter  from 
Florence." 

The  word  Bardotti  means  spare  or  freed  horses,  and  is 
applied  to  those  reformers  of  the  time  of  Pacchiarotto  who 
wished  to  correct  social  and  political  abuses,  but  without 
themselves  bearing  the  burdens  of  service  to  the  city. 

The  Kirkup  mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  the  poem  was 
Baron  Kirkup,  a  connoisseur  in  literature  and  art,  who  was 
numbered  among  Browning's  Florentine  friends.  He  was 
ennobled  by  the  King  of  Italy,  because  of  his  literary  and 
patriotic  services  to  his  country.  He  discovered  a  portrait 
of  Dante  in  the  Bargello  at  Florence. 

The  Epilogue,  which  is  an  attack  upon  the  critics  of  the 
poet,  begins  with  a  quotation  from  Mrs.  Browning's  poem 
entitled  Wine  of  Cyprus. 

See  Academy,  Edward  Dowden,  July  29,  1876  ;  Athe- 
nceum,  July  22,  1876. 

Palma.  The  leading  woman  character  in  Sordello,  the 
patron  of  the  poet  of  that  name,  and  about  to  assume  a 
nearer  relation.  See  under  Sordello. 

Pambo.     Jocoseria,  1883. 

This  poem  is  based  on  a  story  told  in  The  Wonders  of  the 
Little  World  ;  or,  A  General  History  of  Man,  written  by 
Nathaniel  Wanley,  vicar  of  Trinity  Parish,  Coventry,  and 
filled  with  every  kind  of  curious  information  about  men  and 
their  ways.  Chapter  four  of  the  third  book  is  "  Of  the 


244  Pambo. 

Veracity  of  some  Persons,  and  their  great  Love  of  Truth : 
and  Hatred  of  Flattery  and  Falsehood."  In  this  chapter 
is  the  following  :  — 

"  Pambo  came  to  a  learned  man,  and  desired  him  to 
teach  him  some  Psalm ;  he  began  to  read  to  him  the  thirty- 
ninth,  and  the  first  verse,  which  is  :  '  I  said,  I  will  look  to 
my  ways,  that  I  offend  not  with  my  tongue.'  Pambo  shut 
the  book,  and  took  his  leave,  saying,  '  he  would  go  learn 
that  point.'  And  having  absented  himself  for  some  months 
he  was  demanded  by  his  teacher,  '  when  he  would  go  for- 
ward ? '  He  answered,  '  That  he  had  not  yet  learned  his 
old  lesson,  to  speak  in  such  a  manner  as  not  to  offend  with 
his  tongue.'  Chetw.  Hist.  cent.  I.  p.  17." 

The  story  of  Pambo  is  first  told  in  the  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory of  Socrates,  Book  IV.  chap,  xxiii.,  which  contains  "  A 
list  of  holy  monks  who  devoted  themselves  to  a  solitary  life." 
In  this  chapter  Socrates  gives  an  account  of  the  monks  of 
Egypt,  as  they  existed  in  the  year  373,  and  relates  many 
anecdotes  of  them.  Of  Pambo  he  says,  as  translated  in 
Bohn's  Ecclesiastical  Library :  "  Pambos,  being  an  illiter- 
ate man,  went  to  some  one  for  the  purpose  of  being  taught 
a  psalm ;  and  having  heard  the  first  verse  of  the  thirty- 
eighth,  '  I  said  I  will  take  heed  to  my  ways  that  I  offend 
not  with  my  tongue,'  he  departed  without  staying  to  hear 
the  second  verse,  saying  this  one  would  suffice  if  he  could 
practically  acquire  it.  And  when  the  person  who  had  given 
him  the  verse  reproved  him  because  he  had  not  seen  him 
for  the  space  oi  six  months,  he  answered  that  he  had  not 
yet  learnt  to  practice  the  verse  of  the  psalm.  After  a  con- 
siderable lapse  of  time,  being  asked  by  one  of  his  friends 
whether  he  had  made  himself  master  of  the  verse,  his  an- 
swer was,  '  I  have  scarcely  succeeded  in  accomplishing  it 
during  nineteen  years.'  A  certain  individual  having  placed 
gold  in  his  hands  for  distribution  to  the  poor,  requested 
him  to  reckon  what  he  had  given  him.  '  There  is  no  need 
of  counting,'  said  he,  '  but  of  integrity  of  mind.'  The 
same  Pambos,  at  the  desire  of  Athanasius  the  bishop,  came 
out  of  the  desert  to  Alexandria ;  and  on  beholding  an 
actress  there,  he  wept.  When  those  pi-esent  asked  him  the 
reason  of  his  doing  so  he  replied,  '  Two  causes  have  af- 
fected me  :  one  is,  the  destruction  of  this  woman  ;  the  other 


Pan  and  Luna.  —  Paracelsus.  245 

is,  that  I  exert  myself  less  to  please  my  God,  than  she  does 
to  please  wanton  characters.'  " 

Pan  and  Luna.    Dramatic  Idyls,  Second  Series,  1880. 

Pan  was  the  Greek  god  of  flocks  and  shepherds,  the  chief 
place  of  his  worship  being  in  Arcadia.  He  had  charge  of 
pastoral  life,  and  was  intimately  associated  with  it  in  my- 
thology and  poetry.  He  had  a  terrific  voice,  was  of  a  coarse 
and  rude  appearance,  was  fond  of  noise  and  riot,  slumbered 
at  midday,  and  was  fond  of  music.  Luna  was  the  Roman 
goddess  of  the  moon,  fair,  delicate,  and  beautiful.  The 
basis  of  the  poem  is  an  allusion  in  the  third  of  the  Georgics 
of  Virgil.  The  motto  is  from  the  same,  and  means,  "If  it 
is  proper  to  be  credited,"  or,  "  If  no  disrespect  is  implied." 
Probus  says  that  Pan,  being  in  love  with  Luna,  made  her 
a  present  of  his  whitest  sheep,  thus  deceiving  her,  as  the 
whitest  fleeces  were  not  unfailing  indications  of  the  best 
sheep.  Virgil  said,  in  the  translation  of  Wilstach:  — 

"  Is  wool  thy  care  ?  See,  first,  that  bushes  rough 
And  burs  and  thorns  find  in  thy  field  no  place  ; 
Nor  let  the  food  be  rich,  and  always  sheep 
With  fleeces  soft  and  white  do  thou  select. 
The  ram,  although  he  may  a  white  fleece  show, 
Yet  'neath  his  palate  moist  may  have  a  tongue 
That 's  black  ;  if  so,  reject  thou  him,  lest  spots 
Of  darkish  hue  may  stain  the  lambs'  pure  coats, 
And  round  the  field  look  for  a  better  choice. 
Thus  (if  the  tale  to  credit  to  the  Gods 
No  disrespect  implies)  thee,  Luna,  Pan, 
Arcadia's  God,  deceived,  and  prisoner  made, 
Thee  in  the  deep  groves  wooing  with  a  gift 
Of  snowy  fleeces  soft,  thou  not  at  all 
Thy  wooer  spurning  from  thy  silvery  arms." 

Browning  has  taken  the  brief  hint  of  these  last  lines  from 
Virgil  and  expanded  them  into  his  poem,  giving  to  Luna  a 
modesty  not  suggested  by  the  older  poet.  This  is  a  good 
illustration  of  how  the  slightest  hint  was  turned  by  Brown- 
ing into  a  fruitful  source  of  poetic  creation. 

Paracelsus.  In  the  poem  of  that  name,  one  who  as- 
pires to  know,  who  desires  truth,  and  who  cares  for  naught 
else.  He  represents  the  aspiring,  seeking  intellect,  or  the 
spirit  of  reason  and  science.  Browning  indicates  that  his 
failure  comes  because  he  is  too  exclusively  wedded  to  know- 
ledge, because  he  has  not  the  "  enthusiasm  of  Humanity," 
as  it  has  been  called. 


246  Paracelsus. 

Paracelsus.  Published  by  Effingham  Wilson,  Royal 
Exchange,  London,  1835.  Pages,  i.-xi.,  1-216,  post  8vo. 
"  Inscribed  to  the  Comte  A.  de  Ripert-Monclar,  by  his  af- 
fectionate friend,  Robert  Browning,"  which  was  changed  to 
"  Inscribed  to  Ame'de'e  de  Ripert-Monclar  by  his  affection- 
onate  friend.  R.  B.  London,  March  15,  1835."  Reprinted 
as  the  first  work  in  Poems,  1849.  The  original  MS.  is  in 
the  Forster  Library  at  South  Kensington. 

Paracelsus  was  begun  about  the  close  of  October  or  the 
first  of  November,  1834,  was  written  during  the  follow- 
ing winter,  and  was  completed  in  March,  1835.  In  his 
Personalia  Mr.  Gosse  says  of  the  writing  of  this  poem : 
"  This  work  has  had  so  many  admirers  that  it  needs,  per- 
haps, a  little  courage  to  say  that  it  was  surely  not  so  impor- 
tant as  a  sign  of  its  author's  genius  as  the  little  pieces  just 
mentioned.  ...  It  is  a  drama  of  a  shapeless  kind,  parent 
in  this  sort  of  a  monstrous  family  of  Festuses,  and  Balders, 
and  Life  Dramas,  only  quite  lately  extirpated,  and  never  any 
more,  it  is  hoped,  to  flourish  above  ground.  .  .  .  We  can- 
not forget  that  it  is  a  drama  in  which  one  of  the  characters, 
more  than  once,  expresses  himself  in  upward  of  three  hun- 
dred lines  of  unbroken  soliloquy.  The  precedent  was  bad, 
as  all  disregard  of  the  canons  of  poetic  form  is  apt  to  be  ; 
and  in  the  hands  of  his  imitators  Mr.  Browning  must  often 
have  shuddered  at  his  own  contorted  reflection.  The  public 
refused  to  have  anything  to  say  to  so  strange  a  poem  ;  very 
few  copies  sold,  and  the  reviews  were  contemptuously  ad- 
verse. The  Athenceum,  even,  which  had  received  Pauline 
so  warmly,  dismissed  Paracelsus  with  a  warning  to  the 
author  that  it  was  useless  to  reproduce  the  obscurity  of 
Shelley  minus  his  poetic  beauty.  But  certain  finer  minds 
here  and  there  recognized  the  treasury  of  power  and  genius 
concealed  in  this  crabbed  shape.  The  Examiner,  in  par- 
ticular, contained  a  review  of  the  poem  at  great  length,  in 
which  full  justice  was  done  to  Mr.  Browning's  genius. 
This,  again,  was  the  commencement  of  a  memorable  inti- 
macy. But  in  the  mean  time  the  young  poet  formed  the 
acquaintance  of  one  of  the  most  striking  personages  of  that 
generation  —  Macready,  the  tragedian.  This  happened  at 
a  dinner  at  the  house  of  W.  J.  Fox  on  the  27th  of  Novem- 
ber, 1835.  The  actor  was  exceedingly  charmed  with  the 


Paracelsus.  247 

young  and  ardent  writer,  who,  he  said,  looked  more  like  a 
poet  than  any  man  he  had  ever  met.  He  read  Paracelsus 
with  a  sort  of  ecstasy,  and  cultivated  Mr.  Browning's  ac- 
quaintance on  every  occasion.  He  asked  him  to  spend 
New  Year's  Day  with  him  at  his  country-house  at  Elstree, 
and  on  the  last  day  of  1835  Mr.  Browning  found  himself 
at  '  The  Blue  Posts '  waiting  for  the  coach,  in  company 
with  two  or  three  other  persons,  who  looked  at  him  with 
curiosity.  One  of  these,  a  tall,  ardent,  noticeable  young 
fellow,  constantly  caught  his  eye,  but  no  conversation  passed 
as  they  drove  northward.  It  turned  out  that  they  were  all 
Macready's  guests,  while  the  noticeable  youth  was  no  other 
than  John  Forster.  He,  on  being  introduced  to  Mr.  Brown- 
ing said :  '  Did  you  see  a  little  notice  of  you  I  wrote  in 
the  Examiner  ?  '  The  friendship  so  begun  lasted,  with  a 
certain  interval,  until  the  end  of  Forster's  life." 

The  preface  to  the  first  edition  of  Paracelsus  has  since 
been  omitted,  but  it  is  very  important  to  the  understanding 
of  Browning's  purpose  in  the  writing  of  the  poem,  and  is 
here  reproduced  as  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  work :  — 

"  I  am  anxious  that  the  reader  should  not,  at  the  very 
outset,  —  mistaking  my  performance  for  one  of  a  class  with 
which  it  has  nothing  in  common,  —  judge  it  by  principles 
on  which  it  was  never  moulded,  and  subject  it  to  a  stand- 
ard to  which  it  was  never  meant  to  conform.  I  there- 
fore anticipate  his  discovery,  that  it  is  an  attempt,  probably 
more  novel  than  happy,  to  reverse  the  method  usually 
adopted  by  writers  whose  aim  it  is  to  set  forth  any  phenom- 
enon of  the  mind  or  the  passions,  by  the  operation  of  per- 
sons and  events  ;  and  that,  instead  of  having  recourse  to  an 
external  machinery  of  incidents  to  create  and  evolve  the 
crisis  I  desire  to  produce,  I  have  ventured  to  display  some- 
what minutely  the  mood  itself  in  its  rise  and  progress,  and 
have  suffered  the  agency  by  which  it  is  influenced  and  de- 
termined to  be  generally  discernible  in  its  effects  alone, 
and  subordinate  throughout,  if  not  altogether  excluded  : 
and  this  for  a  reason.  I  have  endeavored  to  write  a  poem, 
not  a  drama :  the  canons  of  the  drama  are  well  known,  and 
I  cannot  but  think  that,  inasmuch  as  they  have  immediate 
regard  to  stage  representation,  the  peculiar  advantages  they 


248  Paracelsus. 

hold  out  are  really  such  only  so  long  as  the  purpose  for 
which  they  were  at  first  instituted  is  kept  in  view.  I  do  not 
very  well  understand  what  is  called  a  Dramatic  Poem, 
wherein  all  those  restrictions  only  submitted  to  on  account 
of  compensating  good  in  the  original  scheme  are  scrupu- 
lously retained,  as  though  for  some  special  fitness  in  them- 
selves, —  and  all  new  facilities  placed  at  an  author's  dis- 
posal by  the  vehicle  he  selects,  as  pertinaciously  rejected. 
It  is  certain,  however,  that  a  work  like  mine  depends  on  the 
intelligence  and  sympathy  of  the  reader  for  its  success,  — 
indeed,  were  my  scenes  stars,  it  must  be  his  cooperating 
fancy  which,  supplying  all  chasms,  shall  connect  the  scat- 
tered lights  into  one  constellation  —  a  Lyre  or  a  Crown.  I 
trust  for  his  indulgence  towards  a  poem  which  had  not  been 
imagined  six  months  ago ;  and  that  even  should  he  think 
slightingly  of  the  present  (an  experiment  I  am  in  no  case 
likely  to  repeat)  he  will  not  be  prejudiced  against  other  pro- 
ductions which  may  follow  in  a  more  popular,  and  perhaps 
less  difficult  form. 
"  15th  March,  1835." 

The  selection  of  Paracelsus  for  the  subject  of  a  poem 
indicated  on  the  part  of  Browning  a  very  considerable  inter- 
est in  the  form  of  thought  which  that  strange  character  rep- 
resents. Other  poems  indicate  a  like  interest  in  Ibn  Ezra, 
Cornelius  Agrippa,  Jacob  Boehme,  and  other  mystical  or 
transcendental  thinkers,  many  traces  of  whose  thought  are 
to  be  found  in  this  particular  poem.  It  was  not  by  accident 
he  selected  these  men  for  the  subjects  of  his  poems,  or 
merely  because  of  an  interest  in  mediaeval  topics.  In  these 
men  he  found  something  congenial  to  his  own  thinking,  for 
their  intense  belief  in  the  spiritual  world  and  in  man's 
capacity  to  control  it  with  reference  to  his  own  destiny,  had 
a  special  charm  for  him.  The  daring  speculations  of  Para- 
celsus afforded  him  an  opportunity  for  bringing  forward  his 
own  conceptions  of  life  and  destiny,  and  gave  him  a  con- 
genial and  fitting  subject. 

Theophrastus  Bombast  von  Hohenheim  was  born  in  1493, 
or  perhaps  in  1490  or  1491,  different  authorities  giving  dif- 
ferent dates.  He  was  the  natural  son  of  Wilhelm  Bombast 
von  Hohenheim,  who  was  a  grand  master  of  the  Teutonic 


Paracelsus.  249 

order,  and  his  mother  was  the  matron  of  a  hospital  in  Ein- 
siedeln.  The  place  of  the  birth  of  Theophrastus  was 
Einsiedeln,  in  the  canton  of  Schwyz,  and  only  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  city  of  Zurich.  The  family  moved  about  the 
year  1502  to  Villach  in  Carinthia,  and  there  the  father  dis- 
charged his  duties  as  a  physician  until  his  death  in  1534. 

When  Theophrastus  began  his  career  he  adopted  the 
name  of  Paracelsus,  which  was  of  his  own  origination,  his 
purpose  being,  according  to  one  interpretation,  to  express 
his  own  superiority  to  Celsus.  Another  explanation  of  the 
word  is  that  it  is  a  Latin  translation  of  Ho'hener,  or  per- 
haps of  Hohenheim.  His  first  teacher  was  his  father.  At 
sixteen  he  became  a  student  of  the  University  of  Basel  or 
Basle,  but  he  soon  left  because  not  satisfied  with  the  teach- 
ing. "  In  his  early  youth,"  says  Hartmann,  "  Paracelsus 
obtained  instructions  in  science  from  his  father,  who  taught 
him  the  rudiments  of  alchemy,  surgery,  and  medicine.  He 
always  honored  the  memory  of  his  father,  and  always  spoke 
in  the  kindest  terms  of  him,  who  was  not  only  his  father, 
but  also  his  friend  and  instructor.  He  afterwards  continued 
his  studies  under  the  tuition  of  the  monks  of  the  convent  of 
St.  Andrew,  —  situated  in  the  valley  of  Savon,  —  under  the 
guidance  of  the  learned  bishops,  Eberhardt  Baumgartner, 
Mathias  Scheydt  of  Rottgach,  and  Mathias  Schacht  of 
Freisingin.  After  leaving  the  university  he  was  instructed 
by  the  celebrated  Johann  Trithemius  of  Spanheim,  abbot  of 
St.  Jacob  at  Wurzburg  (1461-1516),  one  of  the  greatest 
adepts  of  magic,  alchemy,  and  astrology,  and  it  was  under 
this  teacher  that  his  talents  for  the  study  of  occultism  were 
especially  cultivated  and  brought  into  practical  use." 

"  Trithemius,"  says  Professor  John  Ferguson,  "  is  the  re- 
puted author  of  some  obscure  tracts  on  the  great  elixir,  and 
as  there  was  no  other  chemistry  going,  Paracelsus  would 
have  to  devote  himself  to  the  reiterated  operations  so  char- 
acteristic of  the  notions  of  that  time.  But  the  confection 
of  the  stone  of  the  philosophers  was  too  remote  a  possibility 
to  gratify  the  fiery  spirit  of  a  youth  like  Paracelsus,  eager 
to  innke  what  he  knew  or  could  learn  at  once  available  for 
practical  medicine.  So  he  left  school  chemistry  as  he  had 
forsaken  university  culture,  and  started  for  the  mines  in 
Tyrol  owned  by  the  wealthy  family  of  the  Fuggers.  The 


250  Paracelsus. 

sort  of  knowledge  he  got  there  pleased  him  much  more. 
There,  at  least,  he  was  in  contact  with  reality.  The  strug- 
gle with  nature  before  the  precious  metals  could  be  made 
of  use  impressed  upon  him  more  and  more  the  importance 
of  actual  personal  observation.  He  saw  all  the  mechanical 
difficulties  that  had  to  be  overcome  in  mining ;  he  learned 
the  nature  and  succession  of  rocks,  the  physical  properties 
of  minerals,  ores,  and  metals ;  he  got  a  notion  of  mineral 
waters ;  he  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  accidents  which  befell 
the  miners,  and  studied  the  diseases  which  attacked  them  ; 
he  had  proof  that  positive  knowledge  of  Nature  was  not  to 
be  got  in  schools  and  universities,  but  only  by  going  to 
Nature  herself,  and  to  those  who  were  constantly  engaged 
with  her.  Hence  came  Paracelsus's  peculiar  method  of 
study.  He  attached  no  value  to  mere  scholarship  ;  scholas- 
tic disputations  he  utterly  ignored  and  despised  —  and  espe- 
cially the  discussions  on  medical  topics,  which  turned  more 
upon  theories  and  definitions  than  upon  actual  practice.  He 
therefore  went  wandering  over  a  great  part  of  Europe  to 
learn  all  that  he  could." 

It  is  not  to  be  understood  that  Paracelsus  carried  on  the 
study  of  nature  in  the  modern  scientific  spirit,  for  he  was 
too  much  a  man  of  his  time  to  accomplish  anything  so  un- 
usual. He  had  not  wholly  freed  himself  from  the  occult- 
ism of  the  Middle  Ages  or  from  the  love  of  astrology.  He 
became  a  student  of  Neo-Platonism,  and  he  adopted  many 
of  its  most  characteristic  ideas.  He  held  that  man  is  in 
miniature  a  reproduction  of  the  whole  of  nature,  and  that 
when  we  would  know  man  we  can  do  so  by  the  study  of 
nature  in  its  several  parts  and  relations.  Along  with  teach- 
ings of  this  kind  he  went  to  the  Kabbalah,  and  drew  from 
it  that  which  was  satisfactory  to  his  manner  of  thinking. 
He  did  not  emancipate  himself  from  belief  in  alchemy  and 
astrology,  or  rather  these  became  in  his  hands  the  means  of 
chemical  and  physical  study.  Mackay  classes  him  among 
the  alchemists,  as  others  have  done  ;  but  his  interest  in 
alchemy  lay  in  the  direction  of  what  has  since  grown  into 
the  science  of  chemistry  and  the  use  of  chemicals  in  the 
curing  of  disease.  The  reputation  which  Paracelsus  gained 
as  a  magician  and  alchemist  clung  to  him,  and  has  until  our 
own  day  kept  the  world  from  a  just  recognition  of  his  real 


Paracelsus.  251 

merits  in  laying  the  foundations  of  modern  medicine  and 
chemistry. 

About  1512  Paracelsus  set  out  on  his  scientific  travels, 
his  purpose  being  his  own  education,  and  the  gaining  of 
whatever  knowledge  was  to  be  found  anywhere.  He  went 
through  Germany,  Italy,  France,  the  Netherlands,  Den- 
mark, Sweden,  Russia,  and  probably  some  parts  of  Asia. 
He  is  said  to  have  gone  through  Prussia,  Austria,  Turkey, 
Egypt,  Tartary,  and  back  again  to  Constantinople,  where 
he  is  said  to  have  spent  some  time.  He  is  even  reported  to 
have  been  a  captive  in  Tartary,  and  to  have  learned  valuable 
medical  secrets  there  ;  and  it  is  stated  that  he  settled  in 
Constantinople  for  some  years  as  a  physician.  Waite  says 
that  in  Muscovy  he  was  brought  before  the  great  Cham. 
"  His  knowledge  of  medicine  and  chemistry  made  him  a 
favorite  at  the  court  of  this  potentate,  who  sent  him  in 
company  with  his  son  on  an  embassy  to  Constantinople.  It 
was  here,  according  to  Helmont,  that  he  was  taught  the 
supreme  secret  of  alchemistry  by  a  generous  Arabian,  who 
gave  him  the  universal  dissolvent,  the  Azoth  of  Western 
adepts,  the  alcohect  or  sophic  fire." 

Very  little  is  really  known  about  the  travels  of  Paracel- 
sus, and  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  he  was  ever  in  the 
East.  The  supposition  of  Hartmann,  that  he  must  have 
acquired  some  of  his  teachings  by  contact  with  Indian  or 
other  Asiatic  believers  in  occultism,  has  little  to  support  it ; 
and  Neo-Platonism  could  have  given  him  everything  of  this 
kind  which  he  expressed  in  his  books.  Hartmann's  account 
of  his  method  of  acquiring  knowledge  is  much  more  to  the 
point :  "  Paracelsus  traveled  through  the  countries  along 
the  Danube,  and  came  into  Italy,  where  he  served  as  an 
army  surgeon  in  the  imperial  army,  and  participated  in 
many  of  the  warlike  expeditions  of  these  times.  On  these 
occasions  he  collected  a  great  deal  of  useful  information, 
not  only  from  physicians,  surgeons,  and  alchemists,  but  also 
by  his  personal  intercourse  with  executioners,  barbers,  shep- 
herds, Jews,  gypsies,  midwives,  and  fortune  -  tellers.  He 
collected  useful  information  from  the  high  and  low,  from 
the  learned  and  from  the  vulgar,  and  it  was  nothing  un- 
usual to  see  him  in  the  company  of  teamsters  and  vaga- 
bonds, on  the  highways  and  at  public  inns  —  a  circumstance 


252  Paracelsus. 

on  account  of  which  his  narrow  -  minded  enemies  heaped 
upon  him  bitter  reproach  and  vilifications." 

Having  spent  something  more  than  ten  years  on  his 
travels,  Paracelsus  returned  home,  and  began  his  career 
as  a  physician  and  teacher.  In  1526  or  1527  Paracelsus 
returned  to  Basle,  and  was  almost  at  once  made  the  town 
physician.  He  performed  some  remarkable  cures,  which 
brought  him  into  notice  as  possessed  of  great  knowledge 
and  remarkable  skill.  One  of  the  cures  he  wrought  was 
that  of  Froben,  who  was  cured  by  him  of  gout  by  the  means 
of  laudanum.  Froben  was  one  of  the  earliest  of  the  great 
printers,  a  man  of  learning  and  skill,  the  intimate  friend  of 
Erasmus,  and  the  publisher  of  his  many  works,  and  of  the 
editions  of  the  classic  and  Christian  writers  which  he  edited. 
On  the  recommendation  of  CEcolampadius,  and  other  leaders 
among  the  Protestant  reformers,  Paracelsus  was  soon  ap- 
pointed by  the  city  council  of  Basle  to  the  post  of  professor 
of  physic,  medicine,  and  surgery  in  the  university,  and  with 
a  considerable  salary. 

Learned  as  Paracelsus  undoubtedly  was,  and  skillful  as 
he  must  have  been,  he  seems  not  to  have  had  the  discretion 
and  sound  judgment  which  are  a  better  part  of  all  wisdom. 
That  he  was  a  man  of  much  originality  we  may  admit,  and 
that  he  had  the  boldness  of  the  true  reformer ;  but  he  was 
wanting  in  tact,  and  in  capacity  for  wisely  guiding  other 
men.  Very  soon  after  he  was  established  in  Basle  he  came 
into  collision  with  the  city  authorities  and  with  the  people. 
He  asked  the  town  council  to  make  the  apothecaries  subject 
to  him  as  the  city  physician,  and  that  they  should  not  be 
allowed  to  sell  any  medicines  except  at  his  order.  This 
was  probably  a  just  request  from  the  point  of  view  of  a 
wise  physician  ;  but  the  apothecaries  would  not  submit  to 
the  control  of  Paracelsus,  and  they  excited  the  people 
against  the  reformer.  This  action  was  construed  as  a  direct 
attack  upon  the  business  of  all  the  druggists  and  apothe- 
caries in  the  city  ;  and  it  excited  the  jealousy  of  the  other 
physicians,  who  likewise  turned  against  the  innovator. 

As  a  professor  and  lecturer  in  the  university  Paracelsus 
carried  his  spirit  of  innovation  still  farther  than  lie  had  done 
as  the  city  physician.  From  the  very  first  the  method  of 
Paracelsus  was  boldly  original,  not  to  say  egotistical.  He 


Paracelsus.  253 

did  what  had  not  before  been  undertaken  in  connection  with 
university  teaching,  —  he  discarded  Latin  in  his  lectures, 
and  spoke  in  the  vernacular,  which  was  Swiss  -  German. 
Then  he  did  not  reproduce  the  teachings  of  the  books,  did 
not  go  to  Galen,  Celsus,  or  any  of  the  masters  of  the  past ; 
but  he  drew  from  his  own  observations,  and  presented 
theories  and  methods  of  his  own.  This  was  doing  in  medi- 
cine what  Erasmus  had  done  as  a  scholar  and  what  Luther 
had  done  as  a  religious  teacher.  In  Paracelsus,  however, 
there  was  not  the  gravity  and  solidity  which  marked  the 
careers  of  Luther  and  Erasmus ;  and  he  laid  himself  open 
to  the  charge  of  being  a  charlatan.  In  his  lectures  he  de- 
nounced the  teachings  of  Galen  and  Avicenna,  then  the 
great  masters  of  medical  science,  and  he  burned  their  works 
before  his  pupils  in  a  dramatic  manner.  .  He  said  that  the 
physicians  educated  in  the  old  way  were  quacks  and  im- 
postors, and  that  in  his  own  shoe-strings  was  more  knowledge 
than  in  the  men  whose  writings  had  been  the  standards  of 
medicine  for  centuries.  He  proposed  to  cut  wholly  loose 
from  the  old  medical  system,  and  to  establish  this  science 
upon  a  bas4s  of  its  own,  which  he  was  ready  to  supply. 

Paracelsus  seems  to  have  had  an  egotism  which  was  re- 
pellent to  others,  rather  than  an  aid  to  his  own  success.  He 
said  in  the  preface  to  one  of  his  books  :  "  I  know  that  the 
monarchy  of  mind  will  belong  to  me,  that  mine  will  be  the 
honor.  I  do  not  praise  myself,  but  Nature  praises  me,  for 
I  am  born  of  Nature,  and  follow  her.  She  knows  me  and 
I  know  her."  In  another  preface  he  wrote  in  the  manner 
of  his  lectures  at  Basle :  "  After  me,  ye,  Avicenna,  Galen, 
Rhases,  Montagnana,  and  others  !  You  after  me,  not  I 
after  you,  ye  of  Paris,  Montpellier,  Suevia,  Meissen,  and 
Cologne,  ye  of  Vienna,  and  all  that  come  from  the  countries 
along  the  Danube  and  Rhine  and  from  the  islands  of  the 
ocean !  You  Italy,  you  Dalmatia,  you  Sarrnatia,  Athens, 
Greece,  Arabia,  and  Israelita !  Follow  me  !  It  is  not  for 
me  to  follow  you,  because  mine  is  the  monarchy.  Come  out 
of  the  night  of  the  mind !  The  time  will  come  when  none 
of  you  shall  remain  in  this  dark  corner  who  will  not  be  an 
object  of  contempt  to  the  world,  because  I  shall  be  the 
monarch,  and  the  monarchy  will  be  mine."  He  made  the 
same  boasts  in  his  lectures,  so  confident  was  he  of  his  own 
^osition,  and  of  the  superiority  of  his  methods. 


254  Paracelsus. 

The  immediate  cause  of  the  departure  of  Paracelsus  from 
Basle  was  the  failure  of  the  city  council  to  sustain  him  in 
his  rights  as  a  physician.  A  certain  Canon  Cornelius  of 
Lichtenfels  became  very  ill  and  lay  at  the  point  of  death 
with  the  gout.  He  called  Paracelsus  to  his  aid,  who  gave 
him  two  small  pills,  which  caused  his  speedy  recovery. 
When  the  canon  was  awaiting  death  he  promised  Paracel- 
sus a  large  remuneration ;  but  when  he  returned  to  health 
so  easily  he  refused  to  pay  what  at  first  he  had  promised. 
Paracelsus  brought  suit  against  him,  but  failed  to  recover 
his  fee.  A  complication  of  causes,  however,  led  to  the  fail- 
ure of  Paracelsus  in  Basle  ;  this  was  only  the  last  straw.  Of 
these  causes  Professor  Ferguson  gives  a  clear  statement :  — 

"  The  truth  of  Paracelsus's  doctrines  was  apparently  con- 
firmed by  his  success  in  curing  or  mitigating  diseases  for 
which  the  regular  physicians  could  do  nothing.  For  about 
a  couple  of  years  his  reputation  and  practice  increased  to  a 
surprising  extent.  But  at  the  end  of  that  time  people  be- 
gan to  recover  themselves.  Paracelsus  had  burst  upon  the 
schools  with  such  novel  views  and  methods,  with  such  irre- 
sistible criticism,  that  all  opposition  was  at  first  crushed  flat. 
Gradually  the  sea  began  to  rise.  His  enemies  watched  for 
slips  and  failures ;  the  physicians  maintained  that  he  had 
no  degree,  and  insisted  that  he  should  give  proof  of  his 
qualifications.  His  manner  of  life  was  brought  up  against 
him.  It  was  insinuated  that  he  was  a  profane  person,  that 
he  was  a  conjurer,  a  necromancer,  that,  in  fact,  he  was  to  be 
got  rid  of  at  any  cost  as  a  troubler  of  the  peace  and  of  the 
time-honored  traditions  of  the  medical  corporations.  More- 
over, he  had  a  pharmaceutical  system  of  his  own  which  did 
not  harmonize  with  the  commercial  arrangements  of  the 
apothecaries,  and  he  not  only  did  not  use  their  drugs  like  the 
Galenists,  but  in  the  exercise  of  his  functions  as  town  physi- 
cian urged  the  authorities  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the  purity  of 
their  wares,  upon  their  knowledge  of  their  art,  and  upon  their 
transactions  with  their  friends  the  physicians.  The  growing 
jealousy  and  enmity  culminated  in  the  Lichtenfels  dispute  ; 
and  as  the  judges  sided  with  the  canon,  to  their  everlasting 
discredit,  Paracelsus  had  no  alternative  but  to  tell  them  his 
opinion  of  the  whole  case  and  of  their  notions  of  justice. 
So  little  doubt  left  he  on  the  subject  that  his  friends  judged 


Paracelsus.  255 

it  prudent  for  him  to  leave  Basle  at  once,  as  it  had  been 
resolved  to  punish  him  for  the  attack  on  the  authorities  of 
which  he  had  been  guilty.  He  departed  from  Basle  in  such 
haste  that  he  carried  nothing  with  him,  and  some  chemical 
apparatus  and  other  property  were  taken  charge  of  by 
Oporinus,  his  pupil  and  amanuensis.  He  went  first  to 
Esslingen,  where  he  remained  for  a  brief  period,  but  had 
soon  to  leave  from  absolute  want.  Then  began  his  wander- 
ing life,  the  course  of  which  can  be  traced  by  the  dates  of 
his  various  writings.  He  thus  visited  in  succession  Colmar, 
Nuremberg,  Appenzell,  Zurich,  Pfaffers,  Augsburg,  Villach, 
Meran,  Middelheim,  and  other  places,  seldom  staying  a 
twelvemonth  in  any  of  them.  In  this  way  he  spent  some 
dozen  years,  till  1541,  when  he  was  invited  by  Archbishop 
Ernst  to  settle  at  Salzburg,  under  his  protection." 

Paracelsus  was  evidently  a  man  of  fervid  and  erratic 
character,  full  of  great  purposes,  which  he  had  not  the 
stability  and  persistence  to  realize.  He  had  genius,  was  an 
original  investigator  and  thinker,  but  he  was  visionary,  and 
wanting  in  sound  judgment.  He  was  brave  and  fearless, 
but  also  wrong-headed  and  vulgar.  The  inconsistent  ele- 
ments in  his  character  are  well  described  by  Professor 
Ferguson :  "  It  is  not  difficult  to  criticise  Paracelsus  and  to 
represent  him  as  so  far  below  the  level  of  his  time  as  to  be 
utterly  contemptible.  It  is  difficult,  but  perhaps  not  im- 
possible, to  raise  Paracelsus  to  a  place  among  the  great 
spirits  of  mankind.  It  is  most  difficult  of  all  to  ascertain 
what  his  true  character  really  was,  to  appreciate  aright  this 
man  of  fervid  imagination,  of  powerful  and  persistent  con- 
victions, of  unabated  honesty  and  love  of  truth,  of  keen  in- 
sight into  the  errors  (as  he  thought  them)  of  his  time,  of  a 
merciless  will  to  lay  bare  these  errors  and  to  reform  the 
abuses  to  which  they  gave  rise,  who  in  an  instant  offends  us 
by  his  boasting,  his  grossness,  his  want  of  self-respect.  It 
is  a  problem  how  to  reconcile  his  ignorance,  his  weakness, 
his  .superstition,  his  crude  notions,  his  erroneous  observations, 
his  ridiculous  inferences  and  theories,  with  his  grasp  of 
method,  his  lofty  views  of  the  true  scope  of  medicine,  his 
lucid  statements,  his  incisive  and  epigrammatic  criticisms  of 
men  and  motives." 

His   personal   appearance    and   his   portraits  have  been 


256  Paracelsus. 

described  by  Hartmann  :  "  Whether  or  not  Paracelsus  was 
emasculated  in  his  infancy,  in  consequence  of  an  accident, 
or  by  a  drunken  soldier,  as  an  old  tradition  says,  or  whether 
he  was  or  was  not  emasculated  at  all,  has  not  been  ascer- 
tained. It  is,  however,  certain  that  no  beard  grew  on  his 
face,  and  that  his  skull,  which  is  still  in  existence,  approxi- 
mates the  formation  of  a  female  rather  than  that  of  a  male. 
He  is  painted  nowhere  with  a  beard.  His  portrait,  in  life- 
size,  can  still  be  seen  at  Salzburg,  painted  on  the  wall  of  his 
residence.  Other  portraits  of  Paracelsus  are  to  be  found  in 
Huser's  edition  of  his  works,  and  in  the  first  volume  of 
Hauber's  Bibliotheca  Magica.  The  head  of  Paracelsus, 
painted  by  Kaulbach  in  his  celebrated  picture,  at  the  Museum 
at  Berlin,  called  The  Age  of  the  Reformation,  is  idealized, 
and  bears  little  resemblance  to  the  original." 

Among  the  charges  brought  against  Paracelsus  in  his 
lifetime,  and  which  have  been  repeated  since  his  death,  was 
that  of  being  a  drunkard.  It  is  said  he  often  appeared  on 
the  streets  in  a  drunken  condition,  and  that  he  was  so  fre- 
quently intoxicated  that  he  was  unfitted  for  his  duties  as  a 
physician  and  lecturer.  He  was  also  charged  with  being  a 
magician,  and  with  dealing  with  familiar  spirits.  It  is  said 
he  sought  for  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  that  he  tried  to 
produce  gold  by  magical  processes.  He  had  the  reputation 
of  holding  communion  with  Galen  in  hell,  and  of  being  able 
to  bring  Avicenna  from  the  infernal  regions  to  aid  him  in 
his  magical  efforts.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  these  reports 
have  no  foundation  in  truth,  —  that  they  grew  out  of  mis- 
representations and  misconceptions  of  his  medical  labors. 
Even  so  late  a  writer  as  Mackay,  in  his  Popular  Delusions, 
repeats  these  worthless  stories. 

Hartmann  describes  the  last  years  of  Paracelsus  some- 
what more  in  detail  than  has  been  done  by  Professor  Fer- 
guson, and  with  some  differences  of  statement :  "  Paracelsus 
resumed  his  strolling  life,  roaming,  as  he  did  in  his  youth, 
over  the  country,  living  in  village  taverns  and  inns,  and 
traveling  from  place  to  place.  Numerous  disciples  followed 
him,  attracted  either  by  a  desire  for  knowledge  or  by  a  wish 
to  acquire  his  art  and  to  use  it  for  their  own  purposes.  The 
most  renowned  of  his  followers  was  Johannes  Oporinus, 
who  for  three  years  served  as  a  secretary  and  famulus  to 


Paracelsus.  257 

him,  and  who  afterwards  became  a  professor  of  the  Greek 
language,  and  a  well  -  known  publisher,  bookseller,  and 
printer  in  Basle.  Paracelsus  was  exceedingly  reticent  in 
regard  to  his  secrets,  and  Oporinus  afterwards  spoke  very 
bitterly  against  him  on  that  account,  and  thereby  served  his 
enemies.  But  after  the  death  of  Paracelsus  he  regretted 
his  own  indiscretion,  and  expressed  great  veneration  for 
him. 

"  Paracelsus  went  to  Colmar  in  1528,  and  came  to  Ess- 
lingen  and  Nuremberg  in  the  years  1529  and  1530.  The 
regular  physicians  of  Nuremberg  denounced  him  as  a  quack, 
charlatan,  and  impostor.  To  refute  their  accusations  he 
requested  the  City  Council  to  put  some  patients  that  had 
been  declared  incurable  under  his  care.  They  sent  him 
some  cases  of  elephantiasis,  which  he  cured  in  a  short  time, 
and  without  asking  any  fee.  Testimonials  to  that  effect 
may  be  found  in  the  archives  of  the  city  of  Nuremberg. 

"  But  this  success  did  not  change  the  fortune  of  Paracel- 
sus, who  seemed  to  be  doomed  to  a  life  of  continual  wander- 
ings. In  1530  we  find  him  at  Noerdlingen,  Munich, 
Regensburg,  Amberg,  and  Meran ;  in  1531  in  St.  Gall,  and 
in  1535  at  Zurich.  He  then  went  to  Maehren,  Kaernthen, 
Krain,  and  Hongary,  and  finally  landed  in  Salzburg,  to 
which  place  he  was  invited  by  the  Prince  Palatine,  Duke 
Ernst  of  Bavaria,  who  was  a  great  lover  of  the  secret  arts. 
In  that  place  Paracelsus  obtained  at  last  the  fruit  of  his 
long  labors  and  of  a  widespread  fame. 

"  But  he  was  not  destined  to  enjoy  a  long  time  the  rest 
he  so  richly  deserved,  because  on  the  24th  of  September, 
1541,  he  died,  after  a  short  sickness  (at  the  age  of  forty- 
eight  years  and  three  days),  in  a  small  room  of  the  inn 
of  the  '  White  Horse,'  near  the  quay,  and  his  body  was 
buried  in  the  graveyard  of  St.  Sebastian.  There  is  still  a 
mystery  in  regard  to  his  death,  but  the  most  recent  investi- 
gations go  to  confirm  the  statement  made  by  his  contempo- 
raries, that  Paracelsus  during  a  banquet  had  been  treach- 
erously attacked  by  the  hirelings  of  certain  physicians  who 
were  his  enemies,  and  that  in  consequence  of  a  fall  upon  a 
rock,  a  fracture  was  produced  on  his  skull,  that  after  a  few 
days  caused  his  death." 

Paracelsus  was  a  prolific  writer,  for  he  published  fourteen 


258  Paracelsus. 

works  during  his  life-time,  and  many  others  came  out  after 
his  death.  Many  writings  were  attributed  to  him  which 
were  not  of  his  production,  and  it  is  now  difficult  to  deter- 
mine which  are  genuine.  He  wrote  in  Swiss-German,  and 
seems  to  have  had  no  knowledge  of  Greek,  and  not  a  very 
extended  one  of  Latin.  His  works  were  edited  in  1589-91 
by  Huser  in  eleven  volumes  ;  and,  though  other  editions 
have  been  published,  this  is  the  best.  They  were  trans- 
lated into  Latin  by  his  disciples,  and  published  in  a  com- 
plete edition.  About  a  dozen  of  his  writings  were  trans- 
lated into  English  during  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
centuries. 

Paracelsus  was  the  first  of  the  new  race  of  alchemists, 
who  arose  in  the  sixteenth  century,  who  abandoned  the 
search  for  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  who  sought  for 
chemical  remedies  for  disease.  He  said  that  the  true  use 
of  chemistry  is  not  to  make  gold,  but  to  prepare  medicines. 
Though  he  was  very  far  from  being  wholly  emancipated 
from  the  spirit  or  the  fact  of  alchemy,  yet  he  made  many 
remarkable  discoveries  in  the  direction  of  modern  science, 
and  he  anticipated  in  part  so  many  modern  facts  and  laws 
that  he  can  be  regarded  as  no  other  than  a  genius,  because 
of  his  wonderful  insight. 

Paracelsus  rejected  all  traditional  and  authoritative  teach- 
ings in  medicine,  and  was  noted  for  his  revolutionary  inde- 
pendence of  thought.  He  broke  away  from  the  humanists, 
and  sought  to  make  medicine  popular  by  discarding  the  use 
of  Latin.  He  rejected  the  study  of  anatomy,  and  sought 
the  source  of  disease  in  part  in  the  spiritual  nature  of  man. 
His  Neo-Platonism  made  him  regard  man  not  only  as  a  mi- 
crocosm, but  as  having  the  source  of  all  his  bodily  qualities 
in  the  soul.  He  sought  for  remedies  that  would  act  upon 
the  spiritual  nature  of  disease  ;  and  these  he  found  in  chemi- 
cals, many  of  which  he  introduced  as  medicines,  especially 
antimony.  He  also  made  a  large  use  of  laudanum,  which  he 
was  the  first  to  employ  as  a  medicine.  He  originated  the 
chemical  system  of  medicine,  which  was  greatly  influential 
during  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries. 

He  made  much  of  the  doctrine  of  signatures,  or  the  cor- 
respondence of  the  microcosm  with  the  macrocosm.  This 
led  him  to  his  theory  of  specifics,  and  to  his  arcana  of  med- 


Paracelsus.  259 

icines.  His  positive  services  to  medicine,  says  Professor 
Ferguson,  ave  to  be  summed  up  in  his  wide  application  of 
chemical  ideas  to  pharmacy  and  therapeutics ;  his  indirect 
and  possibly  greater  services  are  to  be  found  in  the  stim- 
ulus, the  revolutionary  stimulus,  of  his  ideas  about  method 
and  general  theory.  Paracelsus  was  also  a  reformer  in 
surgical  practice,  as  well  as  in  medicine.  His  merit  here 
was  his  observation  of  nature,  and  his  faithfulness  in  the 
description  of  diseases  and  injuries.  His  surgical  writings 
were  of  great  value  in  their  time. 

It  was  not  alone  in  medicine  and  chemistry  that  the  influ- 
ence of  Paracelsus  was  felt,  for  his  name  appears  in  the  his- 
tory of  philosophy  as  that  of  one  of  the  men  through  whose 
theories  the  modern  conceptions  of  the  universe  have  been 
built  up.  Erdmann  says  that  he  was  the  first  to  make  the 
doctrine  of  the  microcosm  and  macrocosm  the  central  point 
of  the  whole  of  philosophy.  With  him  nature-philosophy 
began,  which  reached  its  highest  expression  in  Schelling, 
and  which  has  had  so  important  an  influence  on  modern 
science.  Brilliant  were  some  of  his  ideas,  and  fruitful  in 
results  for  modern  thought ;  but  he  was  also  the  victim  of 
fancy  and  fanaticism.  He  was  a  theosophist,  and  held  to 
many  theories  which  have  recently  re-appeared  under  the 
name  of  "  Esoteric  Buddhism."  Very  nearly  all  which  has 
of  late  years  been  taught  as  "  Christian  Science  "  is  to  be 
found  in  his  writings.  Modern  "  Theosophy  "  adds  nothing 
to  what  he  taught,  and  has  less  excuse  for  its  existence. 
He  had  not  learned  to  separate  these  speculations  from  those 
of  legitimate  science ;  and  in  his  writings  they  are  almost 
inextricably  mixed  with  each  other,  the  true  scientific 
method  being  employed  to  maintain  the  wildest  theosophic 
or  cabalistic  speculations.  This  strange  mixture  of  good 
and  evil  in  his  teachings  is  well  described  by  Erdmann, 
who  is  writing  of  his  theory  of  the  arcana.  "  Here,  as  in 
general  with  Paracelsus,  it  is  hard  to  tell  where  self-decep- 
tion ceases  and  charlatanry  begins.  He  cannot  be  acquitted 
of  either ;  on  the  contrary,  neither  here  nor  in  the  case  of 
the  famous  recipe  for  the  production  of  the  homunculus,  is 
it  possible  to  think  of  an  ironical  jest.  That  in  all  his 
alchemistic  works  he  demands  that  the  stars  and  their  con- 
stellations should  be  observed,  that  the  sun's  crop  and  fal- 


260  Paracelsus. 

low  season,  i.  e.,  summer  and  winter,  should  be  distin- 
guished, is  a  necessary  consequence  of  the  interdependence 
of  all  things  which  he  asserts.  Amid  all  the  assertions 
which  appear  so  fantastic  he  is  never  tired  of  warning  his 
readers  against  fantasies,  and  of  demanding  that  Nature 
herself  should  be  allowed  to  point  out  the  way.  But  he  not 
only  regards  it  as  such  guidance,  that  an  accidental  experi- 
mentum  teaches  how  an  herb  has  once  operated,  but  also 
when  Nature  promises  a  certain  definite  effect  by  means  of 
the  form  of  a  plant  taken  as  a  signature  ;  and  finally,  when 
from  the  fact  that  a  beast  can  feed  on,  i.  e.,  draw  to  itself, 
that  which  is  poison  to  us,  we  draw  the  inference  that  this 
poison  will  draw  away,  i.  e.,  to  itself,  our  wounds,  we  fol- 
low not  our  own  conceit,  but  Nature.  He  is  entirely  in 
earnest  that  our  knowledge  is  only  the  self-revelation  of 
Nature,  that  our  knowledge  is  but  listening  to  her ;  and 
that  he  heard  a  great  deal  from  her  is  proved  by  his  for- 
tunate cures,  and  by  the  fact  that  many  of  his  fundamental 
principles  have  maintained  themselves  to  this  day." 

In  his  article  on  Alchemy  M.  Jules  Andrieu  speaks  of 
those  who  condemn  Paracelsus  because  of  his  imperfect  and 
spiritualistic  teachings  as  not  judging  him  truly  :  "  A  far 
truer  estimate  of  Paracelsus  has  been  given  us  by  Mr. 
Browning  in  the  drama  which  bears  his  name."  To  the 
same  effect  is  the  Cambridge  lecture  of  Charles  Kingsley, 
published  in  his  Historical  Lectures  and  Essays,  where  he 
says :  "  Paracelsus  .  .  .  has  been  immortalized  in  a  poem 
which  you  all  ought  to  read,  one  of  Robert  Browning's  ear- 
liest and  one  of  his  best  creations.  I  think  we  must  accept 
as  true  Mr.  Browning's  interpretation  of  Paracelsus's  char- 
acter. We  must  believe  that  he  was  at  first  an  honest  and 
high-minded,  as  he  was  certainly  a  most  gifted  man ;  that 
he  went  forth  into  the  world,  with  an  intense  sense  of  the 
worthlessness  of  the  sham  knowledge  of  the  pedants  and 
quacks  of  the  schools ;  an  intense  belief  that  some  higher 
and  truer  science  might  be  discovered  by  which  diseases 
might  be  actually  cured,  and  health,  long  life,  happiness, 
all  but  immortality,  be  conferred  on  man  ;  an  intense  be- 
lief that  he,  Paracelsus,  was  called  and  chosen  of  God  to 
find  out  that  great  mystery,  and  be  a  benefactor  to  all  fu- 
ture ages.  .  .  .  He  had  one  idea,  to  which  if  he  had  kept 


Paracelsus.  261 

true,  his  life  would  have  been  a  happier  one  —  the  firm 
belief  that  all  pure  science  was  a  revelation  from  God  ;  that 
it  was  not  to  be  obtained  at  second  or  third  hand,  by 
blindly  adhering  to  the  works  of  Galen  or  Hippocrates  or 
Aristotle,  and  putting  them  (as  the  scholastic  philosophers 
round  him  did)  in  the  place  of  God ;  but  by  going  straight 
to  Nature  at  first  hand,  and  listening  to  what  Bacon  calls 
'  the  voice  of  God  revealed  in  facts.'  " 

Browning  has  interpreted  Paracelsus  as  a  believer  in  in- 
tuition as  a 'source  of  truth,  and  this  he  undoubtedly  was. 
He  expected  to  arrive  at  the  secrets  of  nature  by  direct 
apprehension  or  by  intuition.  He  thought  that  the  soul 
could  see  directly  into  nature,  and  read  its  truths  by  the 
interior  vision  of  the  soul.  Instead  of  keeping  strictly  to 
the  methods  of  the  physical  student,  he  sought  to  arrive  at 
truth  by  intellectual  intuition  or  by  the  special  activity  of 
the  interior  nature.  In  his  De  Natura  Rerum  he  said : 
"  Hidden  things  of  the  soul  which  cannot  be  perceived  by 
the  physical  senses  may  be  found  through  the  sidereal 
body,  through  whose  organism  we  may  look  into  nature  in 
the  same  way  as  the  sun  shines  through  a  glass.  The  inner 
nature  of  everything  may  therefore  be  known  through 
Magic  in  general,  and  through  the  powers  of  the  inner  or 
second  sight.  These  are  the  powers  by  which  all  the  se- 
crets of  nature  may  be  discovered,  and  it  is  necessary  that 
a  physician  should  be  instructed  and  become  well  versed  in 
this  art,  and  that  he  should  be  able  to  find  out  a  great  deal 
more  about  the  patient's  disease  by  his  own  inner  percep- 
tion than  by  questioning  the  patient.  .  .  .  That  which  gives 
healing  power  to  a  medicine  is  its  Spiritus  (its  ethereal  es- 
sence or  principle),  and  it  is  only  perceptible  by  the  senses 
of  the  sidereal  man.  It  therefore  follows  that  Magic  is  a 
teacher  of  medicine  far  preferable  to  all  written  books. 
Magic  power  alone  (that  can  neither  be  conferred  by  the 
universities  nor  created  by  the  awarding  of  diplomas,  but 
which  comes  from  God)  is  the  true  teacher,  preceptor,  and 
pedagogue,  to  teach  the  art  of  curing  the  sick.  As  the 
physical  forms  and  colors  of  objects  or  as  the  letters  of  a 
book  can  be  seen  with  the  physical  eye,  likewise  the  essence 
and  character  of  all  things  may  be  recognized  and  become 
known  by  the  inner  sense  of  the  soul." 


262  Paracelsus. 

Paracelsus  gives  quite  another  meaning  to  magic  than 
that  which  is  now  given  to  it,  for  he  says :  "  Magic  and 
Sorcery  are  two  entirely  different  things,  and  there  is  as 
much  difference  between  them  as  there  is  between  light  and 
darkness,  and  between  white  and  black.  Magic  is  the 
greatest  wisdom  and  the  knowledge  of  supernatural  powers. 
A  knowledge  of  spiritual  things  cannot  be  obtained  by 
merely  reasoning  logically  from  external  appearances  exist- 
ing on  the  physical  plane,  but  it  may  be  acquired  by  obtain- 
ing more  spirituality,  and  making  one's  self  capable  of  seeing 
and  feeling  the  things  of  the  spirit."  Again,  he  says  :  "  The 
exercise  of  true  magic  does  not  require  any  ceremonies  or 
conjurations,  or  the  making  of  circles  or  signs  ;  it  requires 
neither  benedictions  nor  maledictions  in  words,  neither 
verbal  blessings  nor  curses  ;  it  only  requires  a  strong  faith 
in  the  omnipotent  power  of  all  good,  that  can  accomplish 
everything  if  it  acts  through  a  human  mind  who  is  in  har- 
mony with  it,  and  without  which  nothing  useful  can  be  ac- 
complished. True  magic  power  consists  in  true  faith,  but 
true  faith  rests  in  knowledge,  and  without  knowledge  there 
can  be  no  faith." 

"  Another  great  spiritual  power, "  he  says,  "  is  contained 
in  faith.  Faith  stimulates  and  elevates  the  power  of  the 
spirit.  A  person  who  has  strong  faith  feels  as  if  he  were 
lifted  up,  and  were  living  independent  of  the  body.  By  the 
power  of  faith  the  Apostles  and  Patriarchs  accomplished 
great  things,  that  were  above  the  ordinary  run  of  nature ; 
and  the  saints  performed  their  miracles  by  the  power  of 
faith.  ...  A  dead  saint  cannot  cure  anybody.  A  living 
saint  may  cure  the  sick  by  virtue  of  the  divine  power  that 
acts  through  him."  "  Faith  accomplishes  that  which  the 
body  would  accomplish  if  it  had  the  power.  Man  is  created 
with  great  powers  ;  he  is  greater  than  heaven  and  greater 
than  the  earth.  He  possesses  faith,  and  faith  is  a  light  more 
powerful  than  and  superior  to  natural  light,  and  stronger 
than  all  creatures.  All  magic  processes  are  based  on  faith. 
By  faith,  imagination,  and  will  we  may  accomplish  whatever 
we  may  desire.  The  power  of  faith  overcomes  all  spirits  of 
nature,  because  it  is  a  spiritual  power,  and  spirit  is  higher 
than  nature.  Whatever  is  grown  in  the  realm  of  nature 
maybe  changed  by  the  power  of  faith."  "If  any  one 


Paracelsus.  263 

thinks  that  he  can  cure  a  disease  or  accomplish  anything 
else,  because  he  believes  that  he  is  able  to  accomplish  it,  he 
believes  in  a  superstition ;  but  if  he  knows  that  he  can  per- 
form such  a  thing,  because  he  is  conscious  of  having  the 
power  to  do  so,  he  will  then  be  able  to  accomplish  it  by  the 
power  of  that  consciousness,  which  is  the  true  faith.  Such 
a  faith  is  knowledge  and  gives  power.  True  faith  is  spirit- 
ual consciousness,  but  a  belief  based  upon  mere  opinions  and 
creeds  is  the  product  of  ignorance  and  is  superstitious." 

In  his  account  of  the  relations  of  the  animal  and  the 
spiritual  nature  Paracelsus  presents  ideas  which  have  been 
adopted  by  Browning,  not  only  in  the  present  poem,  but  in 
many  others.  "  Man,"  says  Paracelsus,  "  need  not  be  sur- 
prised that  animals  have  animal  instincts  that  are  so  much 
like  his  own  ;  it  might  rather  be  surprising  for  the  animals 
to  see  that  their  son  resembles  them  so  much.  Animals  fol- 
low their  animal  instincts,  and  in  doing  so  they  act  as  nobly 
and  stand  as  high  in  nature  as  their  position  in  it  permits 
them,  and  they  do  not  sink  thereby  below  that  position  ;  it  is 
only  animal  man  who  may  sink  below  the  brute.  .  .  .  Man 
may  learn  from  the  animals,  for  they  are  his  parents  ;  but 
the  animals  can  learn  nothing  useful  to  them  from  man.  .  .  . 
A  man  who  loves  to  lead  an  animal  life  is  an  animal  ruled 
by  his  interior  animal  heaven.  The  same  heavenly  influ- 
ences that  cause  a  wolf  to  murder,  a  dog  to  steal,  a  cat  to 
kill,  a  bird  to  sing,  make  a  man  a  singer,  an  eater,  a  talker, 
a  lover,  a  murderer,  a  robber,  or  a  thief.  These  are  animal 
attributes,  and  they  die  with  the  animal  elements  to  which 
they  belong ;  but  the  divine  principle  in  man,  which  consti- 
tutes him  a  human  being,  and  by  which  he  is  eminently 
distinguished  from  the  animals,  is  not  a  product  of  the  earth, 
nor  is  it  generated  by  the  animal  kingdom,  but  it  comes 
from  God  ;  it  is  God,  and  it  is  immortal,  because,  coming 
from  a  divine  source,  it  cannot  be  otherwise  than  divine. 
Man  should  therefore  live  in  harmony  with  his  divine 
parent,  and  not  in  the  animal  elements  of  his  soul.  Man 
has  an  Paternal  Father  who  sent  him  to  reside  and  gain  ex- 
perience in  the  animal  principles,  but  not  for  the  purpose  of 
being  absorbed  by  them." 

One  of  the  best  sources  of  information  about  Paracelsus 
is  the  JEncyclopcedia  Britannica,  especially  with  reference 


264  Paracelsus. 

to  his  historic  importance  and  his  contributions  to  chemistry 
and  medicine.  See  articles  on  Paracelsus,  alchemy,  chem- 
istry, medicine,  surgery,  pathology,  and  mysticism.  Erd- 
mann's  History  of  Philosophy  gives  th<j  best  account  in 
English  of  his  philosophical  position.  The  fullest  source  of 
information  is  Hartmann's  Life  of  Paracelsus,  which  trans- 
lates many  passages  from  his  writings ;  but  this  work  has 
little  critical  insight  or  soundness  of  judgment.  The  author 
takes  the  good  and  the  bad  of  Paracelsus  with  equal  readiness, 
and  defends  his  magic  and  his  occultism  with  an  astonish- 
ing credulity.  The  lecture  of  Kingsley,  already  mentioned, 
may  be  consulted  with  profit.  The  contribution  of  Dr.  Ber- 
doe  on  Paracelsus  to  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  part 
eleven,  reprinted  in  his  Browning's  Message  to  His  Time, 
will  be  found  of  value.  Mrs.  Fanny  Holy,  St.  Louis,  Mo., 
has  published  a  very  helpful  Outline  Study  of  Browning's 
Paracelsus :  for  sale  by  Charles  H.  Kerr,  Chicago.  This 
is  the  fullest  and  most  satisfactory  study  of  the  poem  yet 
published.  Not  least  important  are  Browning's  own  notes 
to  the  poem,  which  contain  much  valuable  matter. 

For  interpretations  see  Alexander,  and  Sharp.  Also  see 
New  Monthly  Magazine,  John  Forster,  46 :  289  ;  The  Ex- 
aminer, John  Forster,  Sept.  6,  1835  ;  Monthly  Repository, 
W.  J.  Fox,  9  :  716  ;  Leigh  Hunt's  Journal,  2  :  405  ;  TJie 
Browning  Society's  Papers,  1 : 101*  ;  Poet-Lore,  1 : 117  ; 
Kingsland's  Chief  Poet  of  the  Age. 

Many  emendations  have  been  made  in  Paracelsus  in  the 
form  of  omissions,  additions,  and  revisions.  Nearly  a  third 
of  the  lines  have  been  changed  since  the  poem  was  first 
printed.  The  first  and  last  editions  have  been  carefully  col- 
lated with  each  other,  and  the  result  is  given  below.  In  the 
first  book  every  change  has  been  noted,  except  those  of  the 
slightest  character,  such  as  the  substitution  of  one  conjunc- 
tion or  preposition  for  another,  like  and  for  but.  In  the 
other  books  only  the  emendations  of  considerable  importance 
have  been  indicated.  A  few  omissions  of  foot-notes  may 
also  be  mentioned.  Riverside  edition,  p.  105,  1.  46,  had 
this  foot-note  :  "  He  did  in  effect  affirm  that  he  had  dis- 
puted with  Galen  in  the  vestibule  of  hell."  P.  116,  1.  25, 
had  this :  "  '  Paracelse  faisait  profession  du  Panthelsme  le 
plus  grossier.'  —  Renauldin.  " 


Paracelsus. 


265 


CHANGED   READINGS,    ADDITIONS,    AND   OMISSIONS. 
I.  PARACELSUS  ASPIRES. 


1835. 
p.  1.    Scene.    Wurzburg.  —  A  garden  in 

the  environs.     1507. 
p.  3,  1.  1.   Those   creaking   trees   bent 

with  their  fruit  —  and  see 
1.  4.  And  for  the  winds  — 
1.  5.  Shall  vex  that  ash  that  overlooks 

the  rest, 

1.  12.  All  families 
1.  18.  The  painted  snail 
p.  4, 1.  2.        For  where  beside  this  nook 
1.  8.  predict  some  great 

1.  18.  and  all  that  they  contain 

1.  21.  best  love  so  well  shut  in 

p.  5,  1.  2.  That,  far  from  them, 
1.  8.  Even  to  frame  a  wish 
1.  11.  well  they  are. 

1.  12.  This  Festus  knows  ;  beside, 
1.  14.  joys  he  quits  ; 

1.  18.  That 's    beautiful    is    one  !    And 

when  he  learns 
That  every  common  sight  he  can 

enjoy 

1.  21.  joys  derived 

p.  6,  1.  1.       and  which  a  rash  pursuit  of 

aims 

That  it  affords  not 

1.  3.  knowing  this 

1.  19.  Will  be  between  us  ... 
p.  7,  1.  9.  Oh,  you  shall 

Be  very  proud  one  day  !  .  .  . 
1.  11.  Talk  volumes,  I  shall  still  be  in 

arrear. 

1.  13.  for  vain  it  looks  to  seek 

1.  14.  the  last  hopes  I  conceived 

Are  fading  even  now.    Old  stories 

tell 

1.  18.  The  gifts  it  proffer'd  were 
p.  8,  1.  1.  and  still  desist 

No  whit  from  projects  where  they 

have  no  part. 

1.  3.  Alas  !  as  I  forbode,  this  weighty 

talk 
Has  for  its  end  no  other  than  to 

revive  .  .  . 

1.  11.  And  still  I  listen 
1.  14.  a  mother  should  hope 

1.  19.  and  striven  their  strife  — 

Eluding  Destiny,  if    that  might 

be  — 
p.  9,  1.  1.  And  taught  me  to  know  them 

and  know  myself ; 
1.  3.  That  I  can  from  my  soul 
1.  8.  When  you  shall 

Have  learn'd  my  purpose  .  .  . 

Learn 'd  it  ?     I  can  say 
Beforehand    all    this   conference 

will  produce. 

1.  13.  Of    our  belief  in  what  ia  man's 
true  end 


1888. 
p.  27.  Scene,   Wurzburg ;    a  garden  in 

the  environs.     1512. 
p.  28,  1.  9.  Nor    blame    those    creaking 

trees  bent  with  their  fruit, 
1.  12.  Then  for  the  winds  — 
1.  13.  Shall  vex  that  ash  which  over- 
looks you  both, 
1.  20.  Each  family 
1.  26.  Yon  painted  snail 
1.  32.  For  where  save  In  this  nook 

1.  38.  predict  to  me 

p.  29,  1.  3.      and  all  things  they  contain 
1.  6.  love  best,  shut  in  so  well 

1.  8.  That,  when  afar, 
1.  14.  And  fashion  even  a  wish 
1.  17.  well  they  fare. 

1.  18.  Beside,  this  Festus  knows 
1.  20.  joys  I  quit, 

1.  24.  That 's  beauteous  proves    alike  ! 

When  Festus  learns 
That  every  common  pleasure  of 

the  world 

1.  27.  joy  derived 

1.  28.          a  stake  which  rash  pursuit  of 

aims 

That  life  affords  not, 
1.  30.  this  in  view 

p.  30, 1.  2.  Will  rise  between  us :  — 
1.  13.  Oh,  one  day 

You  shall  be  very  proud  ! 
[after  1.  14.] 

1.  16.  for  vain  all  projects  seem 

1.  17.  I  said  my  latest  hope 

Is  fading  even  now.    A  story  tella 

1.  21.  The  gifts  they  offered  proved 

1.  25.  and  yet  desist 

No  whit  from  projects  where  re- 
pose nor  love 

Have  part. 
1.  27.  Once  more  ?  Alas  !  As  I  foretold. 


I.  34.  You  bid  me  listen 
1.  37.  a  mother  hoped 

1.  42.  and  died  their  death, 

Lost  in  their  ranks,  eluding  des- 
tiny : 
p.  31, 1.  1.  Taught  me  to  know  mankind 

and  know  myself ; 
1.  3.  That,  from  my  soul,  I  can 
1.  8.  When  you  deign 

To  hear  my  purpose  .  .  . 

Hear  it  ?    I  can  oay 
Beforehand  all  this  evening's  con- 
ference ! 

1.  13.  Of  our  best  scheme  of  life,  what 
ia  man's  end, 


266 


Paracelsus. 


And   God's   apparent   will  —  no 

two  faiths  ever 
Agreed  as  ours  agree :  next,  each 

allows 

These  points  are  no  mere  vision- 
ary truths  : 
But,  once  determin'd,  it  remains 

alone 
To  act  upon  them  straight  as  best 

we  may  : 

p.  10, 1.  2.  authorize  — 

A  broad  plan,  vague  and  ill  de- 
fined enough, 

But  courting  censure  and  implor- 
ing aid : 
Well  — 
L  9.  Our  minds  go  every  way  together 

—  all  good 
1.  18.  wholly  to  God 

Is  in  a  life 

p.  11,  1.  6.  that  he  should  send 

L  7.  or  find  out 

How  else  they  may  be  satiated  : 

but  this 

Ambiguous  warfare  wearies  .  .  . 
.  .  .  Not  so  much 


1. 11.  And  for  his  own  sake,   not  for 

yours  ? 

1.  16.  Choose  your  party  : 

p.  12,  1.  1.  nor  spy  out 

1.  5.  that  all  you  covet 

1.  7.  That  the  strange  course 
1.  9.  And  count  the  minutes 
L  21.  heart  has  long 

Nourish'd,  and  has  at  length  ma- 
tured, a  plan 
To  give  yourself  up  wholly  to  one 

end. 
I  will  not  speak  of  Einsiedeln ; 

't  was  as 
I  had  been  born 
p.  13,  1.  8.  As  you  had  your  own  soul : 

accordingly 
I  could  go  further  back,  and  trace 

each  bough 
Of  this  wide-branching  tree  even 

to  its  birth  ; 
Each    full-grown  passion    to    its 

outspring  faint  ; 
But  I  shall  only  dwell  upon  the 

intents 

Which  fill'd  you  when, 
L  16.  Whom  famed  Tritheinius 
1.  17.  and  not  the  dullest 

].  19.  Was  earnest  as  you  were  ; 
L  22.  Now,  just  as  well  have  I  descried 

the  growth 
Of  this  new  ardor  which  supplants 

the  old  : 
I  watch 'd  it  — 
p.  14, 1.  15.  Secured 
p.  15,  L  1.  But  after-signs  disclosed,  and 
you  confirm 'd, 


And  what    God's  will ;   no  two 

faiths  e'er  agreed 
As  his  with  mine.     Next,  each  of 

us  allows 
Faith  should  be  acted  on  aa  best 

we  may : 


1.  19.  authorize. 


1.  20.  Well, 

1.  24.  Our  two  minds  go  together  —  all 

the  good 
1.  37.  to  God,  is  seen 

In  living  just 

1.  46.  that  God  should  send 

1.  47.  say  how  soon 

Power  satiates  these,  or  lust,  or 

gold  ;  I  know 
The  world's  cry  well,  and  how  to 

answer  it. 

But  this  ambiguous  warfare  .  .  . 

.  .  .  Wearies  so 

p.  32.  1.5.  To  urge  it?  — for  his  sake, 

not  yours  ? 

..  10.  Choose  your  side, 

.  13.  nor  espy 

.  17.  prove,  all  you  covet 

.  19.  Prove  the  strange  course 
.  21.  Nay,  count  the  minutes 
.  33.  long  since 

Gave  birth  to,  nourished  and  at 

length  matures 
This  scheme.     I  will  not  speak  of 

Einsiedelen, 
Where  I  was  born 


1.  40.  As  you  had  your  own  soul  and 

those  intents 
Which  filled  it  when, 


1.  44.  Whom,  here,  Trithemiug 
p.  33,  1.  1.  and  not  one  youth, 

1.  3.  Came  earnest  as  you  came, 
[after  1.  5.] 

1.  6.  Now,  this  new  ardor  which  sup- 
plants the  old 

1.  7.  I  watched,  too; 

1.  20.  Maintained 

1.  28.  For  after  -  signs  disclosed,  what 
you  confirmed, 


Paracelsus. 


267 


1.  10.  That  you,  not  nursing  as  a  lovely 

dream 
This  purpose,  with  the  sages  of 

old  Time, 
1.  21.  Devotion    shall    sustain  or  shall 

undo  you  : 
This  you  intend. 
p.  16,  1.  5.  Who  summons  me  to  be  his 

organ :  he 
Whose  innate  strength  supports 

him 
1.  13.  And  that  such  praise  seems  best 

attain'd  when  he 
1.  15.  Yet,  that,  the  instrument,  is  not 

the  end. 
There  is  a  curse  upon  the  earth  ; 

let  man 

Presume  not  to  serve  God 
p.  17,  1.  2.  Though  I  doubt  much  if  he 

consent  that  we 
Discover  this  great  secret  I  know 

well 

You  will  allege  no  other  compre- 
hends 
The    work  in  question  save    its 

laborer  : 
I  shall  assume  the  aim  improved ; 

and  you 

That  I  am  implicated  in  the  issue 
Not  simply  as  your  friend,  but  as 

yourself  — 
As  though  it  were  my  task  that 

you  perform, 
And  some  plague  dogg'd  my  heels 

till  it  were  done. 
Suppose    this  own'd  then  ;   you 

are  born  to  KNOW. 
(You  will  heed  well  your  answers, 

for  my  faith 
Shall   meet  implicitly  what  they 

affirm)  — 
I  cannot  think  you  have  annex'd 

to  such 
L  16.  An  intense  purpose — gifts  that 

would  induce 
1.  18.  And  instruments  of  success:   no 

destiny 

Dispenses  with  endeavor. 
1.  22.  than  a  full  assurance 

That  it  exists ; 
p.  18, 1.  5.  For  its  possessor. 
1.  1C.  Where  error  is  not,  but  success  is 

sure. 

p.  19, 1.  12.  Thus  for  the  faith 
1.  14.  These  pedants  strive  to  learn  — 

the  magic  they 
So    reverence.     I    shall  scarcely 

seek  to  know 
If  it  exist : 
I.  20.  God  every  where,  sustaining  and 

directing, 
1.  22.  And  every  object  shall  be  charged 

to  strike, 

To  teach,  to  gratify,  and  to  sug- 
gest? 


1.  37.  —  That   you,  not   nursing   as   a 

mere  vague  dream 
This  purpose,  with  the  sages  of 
the  past, 

p.  34,  1.  2.  Devotion  to  sustain  you  or 

betray : 
Thus  you  aspire. 

1.  9.  Who  summons  me  to  be  his  organ. 

All 

Whose    innate    strength  supports 
them 

1.  17.  And  hold  such  praise  is  best  at- 
tained when  man 

1.  19.  Yet  this,  the  end,  is  not  the  in- 
strument. 


1.  20.  Presume  not  to  serve  God 
[after  1.  24.] 


1.  25.  Suppose  this,  then  ;  that  God  se- 
lected you 
To  KNOW  (heed  well  your  answers, 

for  my  faith 
Shall  meet  implicitly  what  they 

affirm), 
I  cannot  think  you  dare  annex  to 

such 
1.  30.  An    intense   hope ;    nor  let  your 

gifts  create 

1.  32.  Conducive  to  success,  make  des- 
tiny 

Dispense  with  man's  endeavor. 
1.  36.  than  security 

Of  its  existence  ? 
1.  41.  For  its  pursuer, 
p.  35, 1.  8.  Without  success  forever  in 

its  eyes ! 

1.  25.  This  for  the  faith 
1.  27.  These  pedants  strive  to  learn  and 

teach  ;  Black  Arts, 
Great  Works,  the  Secret  and  Sub- 
lime, forsooth  — 
Let  others  prize  : 

1.  33.  God  helping,  God  directing  every- 
where, 
1.  35.  And  every  object  there  be  charged 

to  strike, 

Teach,  gratify  her  master,  God 
appoints  ? 


268 


Paracelsus. 


1.  2.  And  I  am  young,  Festus. 

I.  I.  I,  who  am  singled  out  for 

this. 

1.  6.  the  populous  north, 

L  17.  I  renounce 

All  hope  of  learning  further  on 

this  head ; 
And  what  I  next  advance  holds 

good  as  well 
With  one  assured  that  all  these 

things  are  true ; 
For  might  not  such  seek  out  a 

fast  retreat  — 

1.  22.  there  to  have 

p.  21, 1.  3.  To  lift  himself 
1.  4.  To  fill  out  full  their  unf ulfill'd  ca- 
reers, 
1.  6.  Pronounced  inextricable,  but  surely 

left 

1.  9.  and  untried  force  — 

1.  11.  From    runner    still?     Such    one 

might  well  do  this. 
But  you  have  link'd  to  this,  your 

enterprize, 
An  arbitrary  and  most  perplexing 

scheme 
[after  t  14.] 


1.  15.  Rejecting  past  example,  practise, 
precept  — 

That  so  you  may  stand  aidless  and 
alone : 

If  in  this  wild  rejection  you  re- 
gard 

Mankind  and  their  award  of  fame 
—  't  is  clear, 


1.  37.  And  I  am  young,  my  Festus, 

1.  39.  I,  singled  out  for  this,  the 

One! 

1.  41.  the  hopeful  North, 

p.  36,  1.  6.  Call  this,  truth  — 

Why  not  pursue  it  in  a  fast  re- 
treat, 

Some    one  of   Learning's    many 
palaces, 


1.  9.  seeking  there 

1.  12.  —  So  lift  yourself 

1.  23.  And  fill  out  full  their  unfulfilled 

careers, 
1.  15.  Pronounced  inextricable,  true  !  — 

but  left 

1.  18.  new-hearted  force, 

1.  20.  From  runner  still :  this  way  suc- 
cess might  be. 
But  you  have  coupled  with  your 

enterprise 
An       arbitrary       self-repugnant 

scheme 
1.  24.  What  books  are  in  the   desert  ? 

Writes  the  sea 
The  secret  of  her  yearning  hi  vast 

caves 
Where  yours  will  fall  the  first  of 

human  feet  ? 

Has   wisdom    sat    there  and  re- 
corded aught 
You  press  to  read  ?    Why  turn 

aside  from  her 
To  visit,  where  her  vesture  never 

glanced, 
Now  —  solitudes     consigned     to 

barrenness 
By  God's  decree,  which  who  shall 

dare  impugn  ? 
Now  —  ruins  where  she    paused 

but  would  not  stay, 
Old  ravaged  cities  that,  renoun- 
cing her, 
She  called  an  endless  curse  on,  so 

it  came : 
Or  worst  of  all,  now  —  men  you 

visit,  men, 
Ignoblest  troops  who  never  heard 

her  voice 
Or  hate  it,  men  without  one  gift 

from  Rome 
Or  Athens  —  these  shall  Aureole's 

teachers  be ! 
Rejecting  past  example,  practice, 

precept, 
Aidless  'mid  these  he  thinks  to 

stand  alone : 
Thick    like    a    glory   round   the 

Stagirite 
Tour  rivals    throng,  the    sages: 

here  stand  you  ! 


Paracelsus. 


269 


1.  22.  Friend,  foe,  assistant,  rival, 

p.  22, 1.  14.  until 

p.  23,  1.  3.        its  hills,   and  lakes,  and 

plains 

1.  6.  The  ever-moving, 
1.  9.  Consign'd  to  me  within  its  ranks  — 

while  yet 

1.  17.  what  seem'd  a  longing 

To  trample  on  yet  save  mankind 

at  once  — 

p.  24, 1.  4.  with  them  so  much 

1.  21.  I  would  but  analyse 

p.  25,  1.  18.  well  content, 

And  stagger'd  only  at    his  own 

strong  wits ; 
p.  26, 1.  7.          Know  better  :  hast  thou 

gazed 

Presumptuous 
[after  1.  9.] 

1.  10.  Pursue  as  well  the  toil  their  ear- 
nest blinking, 
Whom  radiance  ne'er  distracts,  so 

dear  descries  ? 
p.  27, 1.  4.  With  our  own  mind  ;     and 

how  such  show'd  beside 
1.  9.  With  weakness  — 
1.  10.  Have    ripen'd     inborn     sins     to 

strength  :  wilt  thou 
Adventure  for  my  sake  and  for  thy 

kind's, 

Apart  from  all  reward  ? 
p.  28, 1.  5.  Demanding  life  to  be  explored 

alone  — 

1.  14.  Just  thus  you  answer  ever 
1.  17.  Of  many  a  mighty  spirit 
1.  18.  for  aught  I  know ; 

1.  22.  They    labour'd    after    their  own 

fashion ;  the  fruits 
p.  29, 1.  3.  With  evils    their  best    lore 

cannot  abate. 

1.  18.  I  well  nigh  dream 

I  too  have  spent  a  life  the  self- 
same way  — 
Tread  once    again  an  old    life's 

course. 

-p.  30, 1.  1.  An  age  ago  ; 
1.  3.  Imbued  with  better  light  let  in  by 

Death  — 
So  free  from  all  past  sin  —  that  it 

was  heard  .  .  . 

1.  6.     But  scatter'd  wrecks  enough  re- 
main to  wake 

1.  8.  all  which  is  foolish 

Indeed,    and    only    means  —  the 

form  I  bear, 

The  earth  I  tread,  are  not  more 
clear  to  me. 


p.  31,  1.  4.  I  know 

1.  10.  you  shall 

Go  forth 

1.  14.  Some  one  to  trust  your  glory  to ; 
to  share 


1.  46.  Rival,  assistant,  friend,  foe, 

p.  37,  1.  14.  till  dawned 

1.  24.        its  mountains,  lakes  and  woods 

1.  27.  The  everlasting 

1. 30.  Consigned    me    in    its    ranks  — 

while,  just  awake, 

1.  39.  I  seemed  to  long 

At  once  to  trample  on  yet  save 

mankind, 

p.  38, 1.  2.  with  men  so  much 

1.  19.  these  words  but  analyze 

1. 37.  strong, 

Or  staggered  only  at  his  own  vast 

wits  ; 

p.  39,  1.  3.        Consider :  hast  thou  gazed 
Presumptuously 

1.  6.  Unguided  by  the  brain  the  sight 
absorbs, 

!.  3.  Pursue  their  task  as  earnest  blink- 
ers do 

Whom  radiance  ne'er  distracted  ? 
Live  their  life 

1.  25.  With  the  human  mind  ;  I  under- 
stand, no  less, 

1.  30.  With  frailty  — 

1.  31.  Have  ripened  inborn  germs  of  sin 

to  strength : 
Wilt  thou  adventure  for  my  sake 

and  man's, 
Apart  from  all  reward  ? 

1.  46.  Asking   a  life   to  pass  exploring 
thus, 

p.  40,  1.  9.  Just  thus  you  help  me  ever. 

1.  12.  Of  many  a  mighty  marcher 

1.  13.  than  theirs,  perhaps, 

1.  17.  They  labored  and    grew  famous, 
and  the  fruits 

1.  20.  With  evils,  what  of  all  their  lore 
abates  ? 

1.  35.  I  almost  dream 

I  too  have  spent  a  life  the  sages' 

way, 

And   tread    once   more    familiar 
paths. 

1.  39.  Ages  ago ; 

1.  41.  Instinct  with  better  light  let  in  by 
death, 


1.  43.   But  scattered  wrecks  enough  of 

it  remain, 

1.  46.  All  which,  indeed, 

p.  41, 1.  1.  Is  foolish,  and  only  means  — 

^he  flesh  I  wear, 
The  earth  I  tread,  are  not  more 

clear  to  me 
Than  my  belief,  explained  to  you 

or  no. 

1.  18.  It  seems 
1. 24.  alone 

You  shall  go  forth 

1.  28.  Some  one  to  cast  your  glory  on,  to 
share 


270 


Paracelsus. 


Your  rapture  with.     Had  I  been 

chosen  like  you 
I  should  encircle  me  with  love  — 

should  raise 

A  rampart  of  kind  wit  lies ; 
1.  20.  the  great  boon, 

p.  32, 1.  1.  If    ease  seduced    or   danger 

daunted  me, 
1.  10.  Once  more  (since  I  am  forced  to 

speak  as  one 

Who  has  full  liberty  at  his  discre- 
tion) 

1.  20.  And  I  regret  it ;  there  's  no  sacri- 
fice 
To  make ;    the  sages    threw    so 

much  away 
While  I  must    be  content    with 

gaining  all. 

p.  33, 1.  6.  although 

No  visible  good  flow  thence,  give 

up  some  part 
Of   your  renown  to  another :  so 

you  shall 
Hide  from  yourself  that  all  is  for 

yourself. 

1.  12.  And  who  but  late 

L  14.  Whom  should  I  love  but  you  ? 

p.  34,  1.  1.  faculties  which  have 

L  5.  which  they  can  never  feel  — 

Passionless  midst 

1.  8.  live  wholly 

On   objects  you  so  lightly  prize, 

which  make 
Their  heart's  sole  wealth :  the  soft 

affections  seem 

1.  14.  though  in  another  it  were 

1.  15.  I  dare  not  blame  you  : 

1.  17.  I  judge  you  one 

p.  35,  1.  6.         first  fruits  I  should  fear  ? 
1.  8.  How  many  years  of  hate 
1.  11.  Well  to  deserve  that  love 
1.  14.  I  should  have  made  all  sure 

For  my  departure  that  remains 

to  do ; 
So  answer  not,  while  I  run  lightly 

o'er 

The   topics  you   have  urged   to- 
night.    It  seems 
We  acquiesce  at  last  in  all,  save 

only 

p.  36,  1.  1.  will  offer  joys 

1.  5.  precepts  of  old  sages, 

1.  6.  But  then 

Truth  is  within  ourselves ; 
1.  11.  Wall  within  wall, 
1.  12.  Perfect  and  true  perception  — 
1.  14.  Which  blinds  it,  and  makes  error  : 

and,  '•'•to  knou-  " 
Rather  consists  in  opening  out  a 

way 
Whence  the  imprison'd  splendor 

may  dart  forth, 
L  20.  And  you  shall  trace 
p.  37, 1.  1.  for  hitherto, 


Tour  rapture  with.     Were  I  elect 

like  you 
I  would  encircle  me  with  love, 

and  raise 

A  rampart  of  my  fellows  ; 
1.  34.  the  great  gift, 

I.  37.  If  danger  daunted  me  or  ease  se- 
duced, 
[after  1.  45.] 


p.  42,  1.  9.  Would  there  were  some  real 

sacrifice  to  make  ! 
Your  friends  the  sages  threw  their 

joys  away, 
While    I    must    be    content   with 

keeping  mine. 

1.  17.  Give  up 

(Although    no  visible  good  flow 

thence)  some  part 
Of  the  glory  to  another ;  hiding 

thus 
Even  from  yourself,  that  all  is  for 

yourself. 

1.  22.  And  who  but  lately 

1.  24.  Whom  should  I  love  but  both  of 

you? 

1.  32.  faculties  which  bear 

1.  36.  themselves  can  never  feel, 

Passionless  'mid 

1.  39.  can  live 

On  objects  you  prize  lightly,  but 

which  make 
Their  hearts  sole  treasure :   the 

affections  seem 

p.  43,  1.  1.     though  in  another  it  scowls 
1.  2.  I  dare  not  judge  you. 

1.  4.  I  own  you  one 

1.  15.  first  fruits  of  my  quest? 

1.  17.  How  many  years  of  pain 
1.  20.  To  justify  your  love  ; 
[after  1.  22.] 


1.  23.  I  was  to  go.     It  seems 

You  acquiesce  at  last  in  all  save 

this  — 

1.  28.  will  yet  retain 

1.  32.  precepts  of  old  time, 

1.  33.  But,  friends, 

Truth  is  within  ourselves  ; 
1.  38.  Wall  upon  wall, 
1.  39.  This  perfect,  clear  perception  — 
1.  41.  Binds   it,   and   makes   all  error  : 

and,  to  KNOW, 
Bather  consists  in  opening  out  a 

way 
Whence  the  imprisoned  splendor 

may  escape, 

p.  44, 1.  2.  And  you  trace  back 
1.  5.  for  hitherto,  your  sage 


Paracelsus. 


271 


Even  as  we  know  not  how  those 

beams  are  born, 
As  little  know  we  what  unlocks 

their  lair ; 
For  men 
1.  5.  And  died 
1.  10.  has  oft  brought  forth 

A  truth 

1.  12.  invisible  mist. 

1.  15.  The  interposing  bar  which  binds  a 
soul? 


1.  16.  Some   film   removed   the  happy 

outlet  whence 
It  issues  proudly  ?  seeing  that  the 

soul 
Is  deathless  (we  know  well)  but 

oftener  coop'd 
A  prisoner  and  a  thrall,  than  a 

throned  power ; 

That  it  strives  weakly  in  the  child, 
[after  1.  22.] 


p.  38, 1.  1.  That  not  alone 

1.  3.  Affects  its  current ; 

L  11.  Seeing  all  this  why  should  I  pine 

in  vain 
Attempts  to  win  some  day  the 

august  form 
Of  Truth  to  stand  before  me,  and 

compel 
My    dark     unvalued    frame    to 

change  its  nature, 
And    straight    become    suffused 

with  light  —  at  best 
For  my  sole  good  —  leaving  the 

world  to  seek 
Salvation  out  as  it  best  may,  or 

follow 
The    same  long  thorny  course  ? 

No,  I  will  learn 
How  to  set  free  the  soul  alike  in 

all, 

By  searching  out  the  laws 
p.  39, 1.  3.  But  to  put  forth  our  strength, 
1.  5.  Gifted  alike,  and  eagle-eyed, 
1.  8.  Mysterious  knowledge 
1.  9.  long  lost  or  ever-hidden  ; 

1.  18.  And  beauteous  fancies,  hopes,  and 

aspirations, 
Were  born  only  to  wither  in  this 

life, 
Refused  to  curb  or  moderate  their 

longings, 
Or  fit  them  to  this  narrow  sphere, 

but  chose 
To  figure  and  conceive  another 

world 

p.  40, 1.  6.  Like  theirs 
1.  14.  Yonder,  Is  mingled  and  involv'd 

a  mass 

Of     schistous    particles    of    ore. 
And  even 


Even  as  he  knows  not  hew  those 

beams  are  born, 
As  little  knows  he  what  uiuoeks 

their  fouut, 
And  men 
To  die 
1.  14.  gives  birth  at  last 

To  truth  — 

1.  16.  invisible  air. 

1.  19.  The  interposing  bar  which  binds  a 

soul 
And    makes   the    idiot,    just    as 

makes  the  sage 
Some  film    removed,   the  happy 

outlet  whence 

Truth  issues  proudly?   See  this 
soul  of  ours  I 


1.  23.  How  it  strives  weakly  in  the  child, 
1.  26.  Why  is  it,  flesh  enthralls  it  or  en- 
thrones ? 
What  is  this  flesh  we   have   to 

penetrate  ? 
Oh,  not  alone 
1.  30.  Ruffles  its  current: 
[after  1.  37.] 


L  38.  Therefore,  set  free  the  soul  alike 

in  all, 

Discovering  the  true  laws 
1.  44.  To  put  forth  just  our  strength, 
1.  46.  Gifted  alike,  all  eagle-eyed, 
p.  45,  1.  3.  The  sacred  knowledge, 
1.  4.  long  lost  or  never  found 

[after  1. 12.] 

1.  13.  Were  only  born  to  vanish  in  this 

life, 
Refused  to  fit  them  to  its  narrow 

sphere, 
But  chose  to  figure  forth  another 

world 


1.  21.  Like  those 

1.  29.  Yonder,  is  mixed  its  mass  of  schis- 
tous ore. 


272 


Paracelsus. 


p.  41, 1.  3.  Tell  me,  Festus,  Michal,  but  1.  39.  But  one  thing,   Festus,    Michal '. 

one  thing  —  I  have  told  I  have  told 

All  I  shall  e'er  disclose  to  mor-  All  I  shall  e'er  disclose  to  mortal : 

tal  .  .  .  now,  say  — 

1.  6.                        And  I,  dear  Aureole  !  1.  42.                           I  ever  did  believe  ! 

[after  1.  13.]  p.  46, 1.  4.  We  wait  you  when  you  rise  ! 


II.  PABACELSUS  ATTAINS. 


Scene. 


Constantinople.  —  "  The  House 
of  the  Greek." 
[p.  42,  after  1.  3.] 

p.  43,  1.  6.  Within  his  roll : 


[p.  45,  after  1.  7.] 

p.  4G,  1.  1.    'Tis  little  wonder  truly; 

things  go  on 
And  at  their  worst  they  end  or 

mend  —  't  is  time 
To  look  about,  with  matters  at 

this  pass : 
Have  I  insensibly  sunk  as  deep — 

has  all 
1.  11.  To  flounder  through  the  scrape  — 

I  could  not  chuse 

p.  60, 1.  3.  Yet  all  was  then  o'erlook'd, 
though  noted  now 


p.  54, 1. 12.  To  mould  them,  and  com- 
plete them,  and  pursue  them  t 

(After  a  pause.) 
Yet  God  is  good : 
[p.  55,  after  1. 10.] 


[p.  55,  after  1.14.1 


Scene,  Constantinople ;  the  house  of  a 

Greek  conjurer, 
p.  46,  1.  4.  With  all  that  length  of  domes 

and  minarets ; 
1.  21.  Their  previous  life's  attainment, 

in  his  roll, 
Before  his  promised  secret,  as  he 

vaunts, 

Make  up  the  sum  : 
p.  47, 1.  33.  Was  it  the  light  wind  sang 

it  o'er  the  sea  ? 
[p.  48,  in  1.  5.] 


1.  5.  I  hoped  that  once  t 

What,  sunk  insensibly  so  deep? 

Has  all 
1.  13.  End  things  or  mend  them,  —  why, 

I  could  not  choose 
p.  50, 1.  2.  And  all  the  beauty,  all  the 

wonder  fell 
On  either  side  the  truth,  as  its 

mere  robe ; 
I  see  the  robe  now  —  then  I  saw 

the  form. 

p.  52,  1.  11.  To  mould  them,  and  com- 
pleting them,  possess ! 

1.  12.  Yet  God  is  good  : 
1.  31.  I  hear  a  voice,  perchance  I  heard 
Long  ago,  but  all  too  low 
So  that  scarce  a  care  it  stirred 
If  the  voice  were  real  or  no  : 
I  heard  it  in  my  youth  when  first 
The  waters  of  my  life  outburst : 
But,  now  their  stream  ebbs  faint, 

I  hear 

That  voice,  still  low,  but  fatal- 
clear — 

As  if  all  poets,  God  ever  meant 
Should  save  the  world,  and  there- 
fore lent 

Great  gifts  to,  but  who,  proud,  re- 
fused 

To  do  his  work,  or  lightly  used 
Those    gifts,    or    failed    through 

weak  endeavor, 
p.  53, 1.  1.  So,  mourn   cast  off  by  him 

forever,  — 

As  if  these  leaned  in  airy  ring 
To  take  me  ;  this  the  song  they 

sing. 

L  9.  Knowing  what  thousink'st  beneath. 
So  sank  we  in  those  old  years, 


Paracelsus.  273 

L  16.   Lost  one,  come  !  the  last  We  who  bid  thee,  come  !  thou  last, 

Who,  living,  hast  life  o'erpast,  Who,  living  yet,  hast  life  o'erpast. 

And  altogether  we  And  altogether  we,  thy  peers, 

Will  ask  for  us  and  ask  for  thee,  Will  pardon  crave  for  thee,  the 

last, 
[p.  56,  after  L  2.]  L  18.  Yet   we   trusted    thou   shouldst 

speak 
The  message  which  our  lips,  too 

weak, 

Refused  to  utter, — shouldst  re- 
deem 
Our  fault :    such  trust,  and  all  a 

dream  I 
[p.  57,  after  1. 1.]  p.  54, 1.  2.  Art  thou  the  poet  who  shall 

save  the  world  ? 

1.  7.  Ay,  look  on  me  I  shall  I  be  king     1.  8.  Art  thou  the  sage  I  only  seemed  to 
or  no  ?  be, 

Myself  of  after-time,  my  very  self 
With  sight  a  little  clearer,  strength 

more  firm, 
Who  robes  him  in  my  robe  and 

grasps  my  crown 

For  just  a  fault,  a  weakness,  a  neg- 
lect? 

[p.  58,  after  1.  2.]  L  29.  Thou  art  the  sober  searcher,  cau- 

tious striver, 
As  if,  except   through  me,  thou 

hast  searched  or  striven  ! 
1.  3.  I  am  to  be  degraded,  after  all,  Ay,  tell  the  world  1  Degrade  me 

after  all, 
[p.  59,  after  1. 13.]  p.  65, 1.  18.  Oh,  ye  who  armed  me  at 

such  cost, 
[after  1.  18.]  L  23.  They  spread  contagion,  doubtless : 

yet  he  seemed 

To  echo  one  foreboding  of  my  heart 
So   truly,   that  ...  no  matter  I 

How  he  stands 
With  eve's  last  sunbeam  staying 

on  his  hair 
Which  turns  to  it  as  if  they  were 

akin: 
And  those  clear  smiling  eyes  of 

saddest  blue 
Nearly  set  free,  so  far  they  rise 

above 
The  painful  fruitless  striving  of 

the  brow 
And  enforced  knowledge  of  the 

lips,  firm-set 
In    slow    despondency's   eternal 

sigh! 
Has  he,  too,  missed  life's  end,  and 

learned  the  cause  ?) 
p.  68, 1. 13.  Did'st  not  perceive,  spoil'd     [p.  59,  after  1.  42.] 

by  the  subtle  ways 
Of    intricate    but    instantaneous 

thought, 
That  common  speech  was  useless 

to  its  ends  — 
That  language,  wedded  from  the 

first  to  thought, 
Will  strengthen  as  it  strengthens ; 

but,  divorced, 

Will     dwindle,     while     thought 
widens  more  and  more  ?  .  .  . 


274 


Paracelsus. 


HI.  PARACELSUS. 


Scene.  —  A  chamber  in  the  house  of 

Paracelsus  at  Basil, 
p.  85, 1.  10.  Nor  was  this  the 

scheme  of  one 
Enamour'd  of  a  lot  unlike  the 

world's, 
And  thus  far  sure  from  common 

casualty  — 
(Folly  of  follies  !)  in  that,  thus, 

the  mind, 

Became  the  only  arbiter  of  fate. 
No;   what  I    term'd  and  might 

conceive  my  choice, 
Already  had  been  rooted  in  my 

soul  — 
Had  long  been  part  and  portion 

of  myself. 
[p.  90,  alter  1.  23.] 


p.  92,  1.  4.     I  spoke  not  of  my  labors 

here  —  past  doubt 
I  am  quite  competent  to  answer 

all 

Demands,  in  any  such  capacity  — 
p.  99,  1.  9.  Nay,   was    assured  no  such 

could  be  for  me, 
[after  line  19.] 


p.  100, 1.  19.  Whatever  that  may  be  — 

but  not  tell  then. 

p.  102,  1.  21.  the  hate  between  us 

Is  on   one  side.     Should  it  prove 

otherwise 
p.  103, 1.  7.  It  is,  I  fancy,  some  slight 

proof  niy  old 
Devotion   suffer'd  not  a  looking- 

off, 
p.  104, 1.  9.  Its  nature  in  the  next  career 

they  try 
p.  108,  1.  4.  As  calmly,  as  sincerely,  as  I 

may; 
p.  113,  1.  13.     I  know  your  unexampled 

sins, 
But  I  know  too  what  sort  of  soul 

is  prone 


Scene,  Basel ;  a  chamber  In  the  house 

of  Paracelsus, 
p.  67, 1.  28.  That  was  in  those  Wiirzburg 

days! 


p.  70, 1.  5.  To  judge  by  any  good  their 
prayers  effect. 

I  knew  you  would  have  helped 
me  —  why  not  he, 

My  strange  competitor  in  enter* 
prise, 

Bound  for  the  same  end  by  an- 
other path, 

Arrived,  or  ill  or  well,  before  the 
time, 

At  our  disastrous  journey's  doubt- 
ful close  ? 

How  goes  it  with  Aprile  ?    Ah, 
they  miss 

Your  lone  sad  sunny  idleness  of 
heaven, 

Our    martyrs    for    the     world's 

sake  ;  heaven  shuts  fast : 
[after  1.  39.] 


[p.  74,  after  1. 10.] 

1.  21.  With  aims  not  mine  and  yet  pur- 
sued like  mine, 

With   the    same  fervor  and   no 
more  success, 

[after  1.  43.] 

p.  75, 1.  43.  but  if  I  fail, 


[p.  76,  after  1.  4.] 

1.  5.  These  old  aims  suffered  not  a  look- 

ing-off 
I.  28.  The  nature  of  the  hated  task  I 

quit, 
[p.  78,  after  L  18.] 


P- 


0,  1.  43.  I  call  your  sin  excep- 

tional; 


Paracelsus. 


275 


To  errors  of   that  stamp  —  sins 

like  to  spring 
From  one  alone  whose  life 
p.  114, 1.  3.  And  that  his  flittering  words 

should  soothe  me  better 
Than  fulsome  tributes :  not  that 

that  is  strange  : 
Come,  I  will  show  you  where  my 

merit  lies. 
I  ne'er  supposed  that  since  Jfail'd 

no  other 
Needs   hope    success  :    I    act  as 

though  each  one 
Who  hears  me  may  aspire :  now 

mark  me  well : 

p.  115, 1.  4.  free  to  make 

That  use  of  me  which  I  disdain'd 

to  make 

Of  my  forerunners  —  (vanity,  per- 
chance ; 
But  had  I  deem'd  their  learning 

wonder-worth, 
I  had  been  other  than  I  am)  —  to 

mount 

Those  labors  as  a  platform, 
p.    116,    1.    6.    With    Hercules'    club, 

Achilles'  shield,  Ulysses' 
Bow  —  a  choice  sight  to  scare  the 

crows  away ! 


p.  117, 1.  7. 


I  have  abjured.     1.  25. 


1.  8.  And,  for  the  principles, 


p.  81, 1. 1.  It  springs  from  one  whose  life 
[after  1.  8.] 


1.  9.  Come,  I  will  show  you  where  my 
merit  lies. 


1.  27.  free  to  mount 

These  labors  as  a  platform, 


p.  82, 1.  1.  Graced  with  Ulysses'  bow, 

Achilles'  shield  — 
Flash  on  us,  all  in  armor,  thou 

Achilles  ! 
Make    our  hearts  dance    to  thy 

resounding  step  ! 
A  proper  sight  to  scare  the  crows 

away ! 

just  abjured : 
I  must    go  find  them  scattered 

through  the  world, 
Then,  for  the  principles, 


IV.   PARACELSUS  ASPIRES. 


p.  124.  Scene.  —  A  house  at  Colmar,  in 
Alsatia. 

p.  125,  1.  13.  So  well  but  there  the  hid- 
eous stamp  shall  stay, 
To  teach  the  man  they  fawn  on 
who  they  are 


p.  126,  1.  12.  Once  more  I  aspire  !    And 
you  are  here  !     All  this 

Is  strange,  and  strange  my  mes- 
sage. 

p.    128,  1.   9.    I   had   huge  praise,  and 
doubtless  might  have  grown 

Grey  in  the  exposition  of  such 
antics, 

Had  my  stock  lasted  long  enough ; 
but  such 

Was  not  my  purpose :    one  can 
ne'er  keep  down 

Our  foolish  nature's  weakness  .  .  . 
L  22.  Of  truth.     Forthwith  a  mighty 
squadron  straight 


p.  85.  Scene,  Colmar  in  Alsatia ;  an  inn. 

p.  86,  1.  16.  Out  of    the  furrow ;    there 

that  stamp  shall  stay 
To  show  the  next  they  fawn  on, 

what  they  are, 
This  Basil  with  its  magnates, — 

fill  my  cup,  — 
p.  86,  1.  38.  Once  more  I  aspire.    I  call 

you  to  my  side  : 

You  come.    You  thought  my  mes- 
sage strange  ? 
p.  87,  1.  33.  I  got  huge  praise  :  but  one 

can  ne'er  keep  down 
Our  foolish  nature's  weakness. 


L  43.  Of  truth,"  just  what  you  bade  me  I 

I  spoke  out. 

Forthwith  a  mighty  squadron,  in 
disgust, 


276 


Paracelsus. 


p.  129, 1.  9.  This  doctor  set  a  school  up 

to  revive 

The  good  old  ways  which  could 
content  our  sires, 


p.  133, 1.  11.  From  tall  trees  where  tired 

winds  are  fain, 
Spent  with  the  vast  and  howling 

main, 

[p.  134,  after  1.  10.] 

p.  135, 1.  10.  which  lately  seem'd 

The  mere  persuasion  of  fantastic 

dreams  : 
[in  1.  13.] 

1.  13.  Well  then  — 

For  all  my  cause  should  seem  the 

cause  of  God 
[in  1.  18.] 

1.  18.  nor  should, 

On  the  other  hand,  those  honey'd 

pleasures  follow 
p.  136, 1.  16.  nor  shall  sad  days 


p.  137,1.  15.  I  ne'er  sought  to  domineer ; 

The  mere  asserting  my  supremacy 

Has  little  mortified  their  self-con- 
ceit ; 

I  took  my  natural  station  and  no 

more ; 
p.  138,  1.  6.       and,  had  I  been  but  wise, 

Had  ne'er  concern'd  myself  with 
scruples,  nor 

Communicated  aught  to  such  a 
race; 


1.  9.  But  been  content  to  own  myself  a 
man, 

[after  1.  18.] 

1.  19.  Your  tenets'  soundness  in  his  per- 
son. 

[p.  143,  after  1.  6.] 


p.  143, 1.  7.  Shall  make  as  though  my 

ardent  words  should  find 
[p.  144,  after  1.  13.] 


p.  88,  1.  10.  That  fiery  doctor  who  had 

hailed  me  friend, 
Did  it  because  my  by-paths,  once 

proved  wrong 
Aud    beaconed    properly,    would 

commend  again 
The     good    old    ways    our   sires 

jogged  safely  o'er, 
p.  90, 1.  10.  Down    sea  -  side    mountain 

pedestals, 
From  tree-tops  where  tired  winds 

are  fain, 

1.  40.  Aprile  was  a  poet,  I  make  songs  — 

p.  91,  1.  12.     late  years  have  quenched  : 

I    have    tried   each   way  singly : 

now  for  both ! 

1.  15.  at  once, 

Not  one  without  the  other  as  be- 
fore. 
Suppose    my  labor  should  seem 

God's  own  cause 

L  21.  My  soul 

Can  die  then,  nor  be  taunted  — 

"  What  was  gained  ?  " 
Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  should 

pleasure  follow 

L  41.  Nor  shall  the  present  — 

A  few  dull  hours,  a  passing  shame 

or  two, 

p.  92, 1.  18.        I  would  spare  their  self- 
conceit 


1.  26.  what  idle  scruples,  then, 

Were   those   that   ever  bade  me 

soften  it, 
Communicate    it    gently   to   the 

world, 

Instead  of  proving  my  supremacy, 
Taking  my  natural  station  o'er 

their  head, 
Then  owning  all  the  glory  was  a 

man's ! 
1.  41.  (Fiat  experientia  corpore  vili) 

Your  medicine's  soundness  in  his 

person, 
p.  95,  1.  5.  Why  do  you  start?    I  say, 

she  listening  here, 
(For  yonder  —  Wurzburg  through 

the  orchard-bough  !) 
Mot'ons  as  though  such  ardent 

words  should  find 

L  32.  Have  I,  you  ask  ? 

Often  at    midnight,   when  most 

fancies  come, 
Would    some    such   airy  project 

visit  me  : 
But  ever  at  the  end  ...  or  will 

you  hear 

The  same  thing  in  a  tale,  a  par- 
able? 
You  and  I,  wandering  over  the 

wide  world, 


Paracelsus. 


277 


p.  144, 1. 16.  Cleaving   prows  In   order 

brave, 

With  speeding  wind  and  a  bound- 
ing wave  — 
[p.  145,  after  1.  2.] 
1.  6.  Cedar-pales  in  scented  row 

Kept  out  the  flakes  of  dancing 

brine : 

An  awning  droop'd  the  mast  be- 
low, 

L  11.  When  the  sun  dawn'd,  gay  and 

glad, 
1.  21.  Lay  stretch'd — each  weary  crew 

[p.  146,  after  1.  2.] 

1.  3.  At  morn  we  started 

1.  6.  Not  so  the  isles  our  voyage  must 

find 

Should  meet  our  longing  eye ; 
1. 10.  Many  a  night  and  many  a  day, 

And    land,    though  but  a   rock, 

was  nigh ; 
1.  13.  And    let  the  purple  flap  in  the 

wind : 
p.  147, 1.  4.  A   loaded  raft,  and  happy 

throngs 
L  11.  Then  we  awoke  with  sudden  start 


Chance  to  set  foot  upon  a  desert 

coast. 
Just  as  we  cry,  "  No  human  voice 

before 
Broke  the  inveterate  silence  of 

these  rocks !  " 
—  Their  querulous  echo  startles 

us ;  we  turn  : 
What  ravaged  structure  still  looks 

o'er  the  sea  ? 
Some    characters    remain,    too  t 

While  we  read, 
The  sharp  salt  wind,  impatient  for 

the  last 
Of   even    this   record,    wistfully 

comes  and  goes, 

Or  sings  that  we  recover,  mock- 
ing it. 

This  is  the  record ;  and  my  voice, 

the  wind's.  [He  sings. 

p.  96, 1.  7.  With  cleaving  prows  in  order 

brave 

To  a  speeding  wind  and  a  bound- 
ing wave, 

L  15.  To  bear  the  playful  billows'  game: 

L  19.  Where  cedar  poles  in  scented  row 

Kept  out  the  flakes  of  the  dancing 

brine, 
And  an  awning  drooped  the  mast 

below, 

In  fold  on  fold  of  the  purple  fine, 
1.  26.  When  the  sun  dawned,  oh,  gay 

and  glad 
1.  36.  Lay  stretched  along,  each  weary 

crew 
L  40.  So  the  stars  wheeled  round,  and 

the  darkness  past, 
And  at  morn  we  started 
p.  97, 1.  1.  "  Avoid  it, "  cried  our  pilot, 

"  check 

The  shout,  restrain  the  eager  eye !" 

1.  4.  For  many  a  night  and  many  a  day, 

And  land,  though  but  a  rock,  drew 

nigh; 
L  7.  Let  the  purple  awning  flap  in  the 

wind, 
1.  20.  A  loaded  raft  with  happy  throngs 

L.  27.  Oh,  then  we  awoke  with  sadden 
start 


V.  PARACELSUS  ATTAINS. 


Scene.  —  A  cell  in  the  Hospital  of   St. 

Sebastian,  at  Salzburg. 
p.  159, 1.  14.  Other  provision  is  for  him 

you  seek. 


p.  165, 1.  2.  By  them  :  and  what  had  yon 
to  do,  wise  peers  ? 


Scene,  Salzburg ;  a  cell  in  the  Hospital 

of  St.  Sebastian. 
p.  102,  L  41.  Higher  provision  is  for  him 

you  seek 
Amid  our  pomps  and  glories :  see 

it  here ! 
p.  105, 1.  24.  By  the  others !  What  had 

you  to  do,  sage  peers  ? 
Here    stand   my   rivals  ;    Latin, 

Arab,  Jew, 

Greek,  join  dead  names  against 
me :  all  I  ask 


278 


Paracelsus. 


L  3.    Only  observe:   why  fiends  may 

learn  from  them  ! 
L  10.  Their  dead    names  brow-beating 

me.     Wretched  crew  1 


L18. 


how  we  met  face  to  face  . 


[in  L  190 


1.  20.  In  troth  my  delicate  witch, 

p.  173,  L  7.          white-hair'd  Jews  .  .  . 


p.  177, 1. 17.  In  and  out  the  soft  and 
wet 

Clay  that  breeds  them,  brown  as 

they. 

p.  178, 1.  2.  "Arouses  .  .  . 
p.  181, 1.  7.  It  is  not  fair.    Your  own 
turn  will  arrive 

Borne  day.    Dear  Festus,  you  will 
die  like  me  — 

Your  turn  will  come  so  that  you 

do  but  wait ! 

p.  186,  L  22.      though  the  lion  heart  re- 
pines not 

At  working  through  such  lets  its 

purpose  out. 

p.  190, 1.  3.  (So  would  a  spirit  deem,  in- 
tent on  watching 

The  purpose  of  the  world  from  its 
faint  rise 

To   its   mature   development)  — 
some  point 

Whereto   those    wandering   rays 
should  all  converge  — 

Might :  neither  put  forth  blindly, 
L  20.  Anticipations,  hints  of  these  and 
more 

Are    strewn    confusedly    every- 
where —  all  seek 

An  object  to  possess  and  stamp 
their  own; 


IB,  that  the  world  enroll  my  name 
with  theirs, 

And  even  this  poor  privilege,  it 
seems, 

They  range  themselves,  prepared 
to  disallow. 

Only  observe  !   why,  fiends  may 

learn  from  them  ! 

L  37.  And  their  dead  names  browbeat- 
ing me !    Gray  crew, 

Yet  steeped  in  fresh  malevolence 

from  hell, 
L  46.  We  met  here  face  to  face  : 

I  said  the  crown  should  fall  from 
thee.    Once  more 

We  meet  as  in  that  ghastly  vesti- 
bule: 

Look  to  my  brow !    Have  I  re- 
deemed my  pledge  ? 
p.  106, 1.  4.          Oh,  emptiness  of  fame  ! 

O  Persic  Zoroaster,  lord  of  stars  ! 

—  Who  said  these  old  renowns, 
dead  long  ago, 

Could  make  me  overlook  the  liv- 
ing worM 

To  gaze  through  gloom  at  where 
they  stood,  indeed, 

But  stand  no  longer  ?    What  a 
warm  light  life 

After  the  shade  !    In  truth,  my 

delicate  witch, 
p.  109, 1.  32.  white-haired  Jews 

Bound  for  their  own  land  where 

redemption  dawns. 

p.  Ill,  1.  35.  In  and  out  the  marl  and 
grit 

That  seems  to  breed  them,  brown 

as  they : 

L  41.  Rouses,  creep  he  ne'er  so  still. 
p.  113, 1.  22.    It   is  not  lawful.    Your 
own  turn  will  come 

One    day.    Wait,    Festus!     You 
will  die  like  me. 


p.  116, 1. 10.  thus  I  entered  on  my 

course. 


[p.  117,  after  line  27.] 


1.  28.  Some  point  where  all  those  scat- 
tered rays  should  meet 

Convergent  hi  the  faculties  of 
man. 

Power — neither  put  forth  blindly, 
1.  43.  Hints  and  previsions  of  which 
faculties, 

Are  strewn  confusedly  every, 
where  about 

The  inferior  natures,  and  all  lead 
up  higher 


The  Patriot.  279 

p.  196, 1.  4.  Although  my  own  name  led  [p.  120,  after  L  20.] 

the  brightness  in : 

p.  197, 1.  5.  remain'd  alone  [in  1.  44.] 

Of  all  the  company,  and,  even  the 

least,  1. 44.  seemed,  even  the  least, 

More  than  a  match  for  my  con-  Itself  a  match  for  my  concentred 

centred  strength  ....  strength  — 

L  12.  from  its  uprise ;  p.  121, 1.  4.  from  its  uprise : 

I  saw  Aprile  —  my  Aprile  there  I 

p.  199, 1.  19.  But  'tis  but  for  a  time ;  p.  122,  1.  8.  It  is  but  for  a  time  ; 

Parleyings  with  Certain  People  of  Importance  in 
Their  Day  :  To  wit :  Bernard  de  Mandeville,  Daniel  Bar- 
toli,  Christopher  Smart,  George  Bubb  Dodington,  Francis 
Fiirini,  Gerard  de  Lairesse,  and  Charles  Avison.  Intro- 
duced by  A  Dialogue  between  Apollo  and  the  Fates  ;  con- 
cluded by  Another  between  John  Fust  and  his  Friends. 
Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  London.  This  was  the  full  title- 
page  of  the  poem ;  and  on  the  next  page  was  the  following 
dedication :  In  Memoriam  J.  Milsand.  Obiit  iv.  Sept. 
MDCCCLXXXVI.  Absens  absentum  auditgue  videt- 
que.  Pages,  1-268.  Published  in  1887. 

M.  Milsand  was  one  of  Browning's  earliest  friends. 
To  him  was  dedicated  the  revised  Sordello.  He  was  the 
first  Frenchman  to  recognize  the  poetical  work  of  Brown- 
ing, and  he  wrote  an  essay  on  that  subject  in  1851,  which 
was  published  in  the  Revue  des  deux  Mondes,  11 :  6ol. 
He  also  reviewed  Men  and  Women  in  the  same  periodical 
in  1856,  16  :  511.  For  several  summers  the  two  friends 
spent  some  months  near  each  other  in  Normandy.  In  a 
letter  written  immediately  after  the  death  of  M.  Milsand, 
in  September,  1886,  Browning  called  him  "  my  belovedest 
of  friends."  "  The  relationship  between  Browning  and  Mil- 
sand  was  a  very  beautiful  one,"  says  Mr.  Kingsland ;  "  and 
it  was  truly  delightful  to  see  these  old  and  staunch  friends 
together." 

See  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  nine, 
2  :  169,  Arthur  Symons  ;  also  2  :  211*  and  2  :  187* ;  Net- 
tleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts, 

Parting  at  Morning.  See  Meeting  at  Night,  of  which 
this  poem  is  the  sequel. 

Patriot,  The.  An  Old  Story.  Men  and  Women. 
1855.  Romances,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

Browning  has  distinctly  stated  that  this  poem  does  not 
refer  to  Arnold  or  Arnaldo  of  Brescia,  though  in  the  first 


280       Paul  Desforges  Maillard.  —  Pauline. 

edition  Brescia  was  mentioned  in  the  poem  as  the  scene  of 
the  adventure  described.  No  particular  historical  event  is 
indicated ;  the  aim  of  the  poem  is  not  historical,  but  drama- 
tic. Brescia  is  an  important  city  of  Lombardy,  about  mid- 
way between  Milan  and  Verona,  with  a  population  of  nearly 
fifty  thousand.  It  has  had  a  long  and  eventful  history, 
and  might  well  have  been  the  scene  of  the  patriot's  success 
and  failure. 

Paul  Desforges  Maillard.  The  second  of  the  poets 
in  Two  Poets  of  Croisic,  which  see. 

Pauline :  a  Fragment  of  a  Confession.  Written 
in  1832,  and  published  by  Saunders  &  Otley  in  1833, 
price  five  shillings.  At  the  end  the  poem  was  dated, 
"  Richmond,  October  22,  1832 ; "  but  the  poet  never  lived 
in  that,  place.  The  extract  from  H.  Cor.  Agrippa,  De 
Occult.  Phil.,  which  was  printed  as  a  preface,  was  dated 
"London,  January,  1833."  Pages,  1-71. 

In  his  article  on  The  Early  Writings  of  Robert  Brown- 
ing, printed  in  the  Century  Magazine,  republished  in  Per- 
sonalia^ Mr.  Edmund  Gosse  gives  the  following  account  of 
this  poem :  "  At  Richmond,  on  the  22d  of  October,  1832, 
Mr.  Browning  finished  a  poem  which  he  named,  from  the 
sbject,  not  the  subject,  Pauline.  This  piece  was  read  and 
admired  at  home,  and  one  day  his  aunt  said  to  the  young 
man  :  '  I  hear,  Robert,  that  you  have  written  a  poem ;  here 
is  the  money  to  print  it.' 

"Accordingly,  in  January,  1833,  there  went  to  press, 
anonymously,  a  little  book  of  seventy  pages,  which  re- 
mained virtually  unrecognized  until  the  author,  to  preserve 
it  from  piracy,  unwillingly  received  it  among  the  acknow- 
ledged children  of  his  muse,  in  1867." 

Sharp,  in  his  Life,  adds  an  item  or  two  in  his  account  of 
the  writing  of  this  poem  :  "  When  he  read  the  poem  to  his 
parents,  upon  its  conclusion,  both  were  much  impressed  by 
it,  though  his  father  made  severe  strictures  upon  its  lack  of 
polish,  its  terminal  inconcision,  and  its  vagueness  of  thought. 
That  he  was  not  more  severe  was  accepted  by  his  son  as 
high  praise.  The  author  had,  however,  little  hope  of  seeing 
it  in  print.  Mr.  Browning  was  not  anxious  to  provide  a 
publisher  with  a  present.  So  one  day  the  poet  was  grati- 
fied when  his  aunt,  handing  him  the  requisite  sum,  re- 


Pauline :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession.     281 

marked  that  she  had  heard  he  had  written  a  fine  poem,  and 
that  she  wished  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  it  in  print." 

Some  phases  of  the  subsequent  history  of  the  poem  are 
well  told  by  Mr.  Gosse.  "  But,  although  Pauline  was  ex- 
cluded from  recognition  by  its  author  for  more  than  thirty 
years,  he  has  to  confess  that  its  production  was  attended 
with  circumstances  of  no  little  importance  to  him.  It  was 
the  intention  and  desire  of  Mr.  Browning  that  the  author- 
ship should  remain  entirely  unknown,  but  Miss  Flower  told 
the  secret  to  Mr.  Fox,  who  reviewed  the  poem  with  great 
warmth  and  fullness  in  the  Monthly  Repository.  But  a 
more  curious  incident  was  that  a  copy  fell  into  the  hands  of 
John  Stuart  Mill,  who  was  only  six  years  the  senior  of  the 
poet.  It  delighted  him  in  the  highest  degree,  and  he  im- 
mediately wrote  to  the  editor  of  Tait's  Magazine,  the  only 
periodical  in  which  he  was  at  that  time  free  to  express  him- 
self, for  leave  to  review  Pauline  at  length.  The  reply  was 
that  nothing  would  have  been  more  welcome,  but  that,  un- 
fortunately, in  the  preceding  number  the  poem  had  been 
dismissed  with  one  line  of  contemptuous  neglect.  Mr. 
Mill's  opportunities  extended  no  further  than  this  one  maga- 
zine, but  at  his  death  there  came  into  Mr.  Browning's  pos- 
session this  identical  copy,  the  blank  pages  of  which  were 
crowded  with  Mill's  annotations  and  remarks. 

"  The  late  John  Forster  took  such  an  interest  in  this 
volume  that  he  borrowed  it,  —  '  convey,  the  wise  it  call,'  — 
and  when  he  died,  it  passed  with  his  library  into  the  pos- 
session of  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  where  the  curious 
relic  of  the  youth  of  two  eminent  men  has  at  last  found  a 
resting-place.  Nor  was  this  the  only  instance  in  which  the 
poem,  despite  its  anonymity  and  its  rawness,  touched  a  kin- 
dred chord  in  a  man  of  genius.  There  was  much  in  it 
that  was  new,  forcible,  and  fine,  —  such  passages  of  de- 
scription as  that  of  the  wood  where  Pauline  and  her  lover 
met,  or  such  fine  bursts  of  versification  as  that  about  An- 
dromeda. 

"  Such  beauties  as  these  were  not  likely  to  escape  the 
notice  of  curious  lovers  of  poetry.  Many  years  after,  when 
Mr.  Browning  was  living  in  Florence,  he  received  a  letter 
from  a  young  painter  whose  name  was  quite  unknown  to 
him,  asking  whether  he  were  the  author  of  a  poem  called 


282     Pauline :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession. 

Pauline,  which  was  somewhat  in  his  manner,  and  which 
the  writer  had  so  greatly  admired  that  he  had  transcribed 
the  whole  of  it  in  the  British  Museum  reading-room.  The 
letter  was  signed  D.  G.  Rossetti,  and  thus  began  Mr. 
Browning's  acquaintance  with  this  eminent  man.  But  to 
the  world  at  large  Pauline  was  a  sealed  book,  read  by  no- 
body, and  the  reviewers  simply  ignored  it." 

In  a  letter  addressed  from  Isere,  France,  to  Mr.  William 
Sharp,  Browning  gave  an  account  of  Rossetti's  interest  in 
Pauline,  and  of  their  subsequent  acquaintance :  "  Ros» 
setti's  Pauline  letter  was  addressed  to  me  at  Florence  more 
than  thirty  years  ago.  I  have  preserved  it,  but,  even  were 
I  at  home,  should  be  unable  to  find  it  without  troublesome 
searching.  It  was  to  the  effect  that  the  writer,  personally 
and  altogether  unknown  to  me,  had  come  upon  a  poem  in 
the  British  Museum,  wliich  he  copied  the  whole  of,  from  its 
being  not  otherwise  procurable  —  that  he  judged  it  to  be 
mine,  but  could  not  be  sure,  and  wished  me  to  pronounce  in 
the  matter  • —  which  I  did.  A  year  or  two  after,  I  had  a 
visit  in  London  from  Mr.  (William)  Allingham  and  a 
friend  —  who  proved  to  be  Rossetti.  When  I  heard  he 
was  a  painter  I  insisted  on  calling  on  him,  though  he  de- 
clared he  had  nothing  to  show  me  —  which  was  far  enough 
from  the  case.  Subsequently,  on  another  of  my  returns  to 
London,  he  painted  my  portrait,  not,  I  fancy,  in  oils,  but 
watercolors,  and  finished  it  in  Paris  shortly  after.  This 
must  have  been  in  the  year  when  Tennyson  published  Maud, 
for  I  remember  Tennyson  reading  the  poem  one  evening 
while  Rossetti  made  a  rapid  pen-and-ink  sketch  of  him, 
very  good,  from  one  obscure  corner  of  vantage,  which  I 
still  possess,  and  duly  value.  This  was  before  Rossetti's 
marriage." 

The  review  of  Pauline  by  W.  J.  Fox  opens  with  a  dis- 
cussion of  the  importance  of  recognizing  the  soul  in  litera- 
ture, and  then  continues :  "  These  thoughts  have  been  sug- 
gested by  the  work  before  us,  which,  though  evidently  a 
hasty  and  imperfect  sketch,  has  truth  and  life  in  it,  which 
gave  us  the  thrill,  and  laid  hold  of  us  with  the  power,  the 
sensation  of  which  has  never  failed  us  as  a  test  of  genius. 
Whoever  the  anonymous  author  may  be,  he  is  a  poet.  A 
pretender  to  science  cannot  always  be  safely  judged  of  by 


Pauline :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession.     283 

a  brief  publication,  for  the  knowledge  of  some  facts  does 
not  imply  the  knowledge  of  other  facts ;  but  the  claimant 
of  poetic  honors  may  generally  be  appreciated  by  a  few 
pages,  often  but  a  few  lines,  for  if  they  be  poetry,  he  is  a 
poet.  We  cannot  judge  of  the  house  by  the  brick,  but  we 
can  judge  of  the  statue  of  Hercules  by  its  foot.  We  felt 
certain  of  Tennyson,  before  we  saw  the  book,  by  a  few 
verses  which  had  straggled  into  a  newspaper ;  we  are  not 
less  certain  of  the  author  of  Pauline. 

"  Pauline  is  the  recipient  of  the  confessions :  the  hero  is 
as  anonymous  as  the  author,  and  this  is  no  matter ;  for 
poet  is  the  title  both  of  the  one  and  the  other.  The  con- 
fessions have  nothing  in  them  which  needs  names  :  the  ex- 
ternal world  is  only  reflected  in  them  in  the  faintest  shades ; 
its  influences  are  only  described  after  they  have  penetrated 
into  the  intellect.  We  have  never  read  anything  more 
purely  confessional.  The  whole  composition  is  of  the  spirit, 
spiritual.  The  scenery  is  in  the  chambers  of  thought ;  the 
agencies  are  powers  and  passions ;  the  events  are  transi- 
tions from  one  state  of  spiritual  existence  to  another.  And 
yet  the  composition  is  not  dreamy  ;  there  is  on  it  a  deep 
stamp  of  reality.  Still  less  is  it  characterized  by  coldness. 
It  has  visions  that  we  love  to  look  upon,  and  tones  that 
touch  the  inmost  heart  till  it  responds." 

"  The  poet's  confessions  are  introduced  with  an  analysis 
of  his  spiritual  constitution,  in  which  he  is  described  as 
having  an  intense  consciousness  of  individuality,  combined 
with  a  sense  of  power,  a  self-supremacy,  and  a  '  principle  of 
restlessness  which  would  be  all,  have,  see,  know,  taste,  feel 
all '  of  this  essential  self ;  an  imagination,  steady  and  un- 
failing in  its  power,  is  described  as  the  characteristic 
quality.  A  '  yearning  after  God '  or  supreme  and  univer- 
sal good,  unconsciously  cherished  through  the  earlier  stages 
of  the  history,  keeps  this  mind  from  utterly  dissipating 
itself ;  there  is  added  an  unaptness  for  love,  a  mere  percep- 
tion of  the  beautiful,  the  perception  being  felt  more  pre- 
cious than  its  object.  In  the  progress  and  development  of 
the  being  thus  constituted,  we  first  see  a  solitary  boy,  whose 
mind  neither  parent,  teacher,  nor  friend  seems  to  be  in 
communion  with,  or  influencing ;  untutored  by  any  one,  un- 
attracted  towards  any  one,  shut  up  by  himself  in  a  library, 


284     Pauline :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession. 

and  spontaneously  intent  on  the  great  classic  writers.  But 
the  ideal,  though  thus  strongly  infused  into  his  being,  did 
not  wholly  pervade  or  permanently  elevate  it.  A  vague 
sense  of  power  was  generated,  but  the  pressure  of  circum- 
stances kept  the  spirit  down ;  restraint  humbled  and  cor- 
rupted the  soul ;  and  the  mental  and  moral  degradation 
which  had  commenced  would  have  proceeded  rapidly  and 
fatally,  but  that  a  purity  of  taste  had  been  produced  which 
interposed  to  check  the  downward  progress  ;  and  in  music 
a  ministry  was  found  which  was  one  of  preservation,  till 
the  soul  was  ripened  for  higher  aspirations. 

"  Dissatisfied  with  his  own  acquirements  and  achieve- 
ments, the  young  minstrel  now  seeks  to  know  what  has  been 
done  by  the  master-spirits  of  the  earth  ;  he  gazes  on  the 
works  of  mighty  bards  and  sages  ;  he  looks  unappalled,  for 
he  finds  his  own  thoughts  recorded  and  his  own  powers  ex- 
emplified ;  he  turns  from  them  to  self-study  and  analysis ; 
his  sight  is  sharpened  and  his  powers  excited  by  introspec- 
tion ;  he  feels  the  misgivings  felt  of  old,  and  would  make 
or  recognize  the  discovery  desired  of  old :  he,  too,  would 
solve  the  world's  enigma. 

"  He  enters  the  world,  and  the  bright  theories  which  at 
first  spread  their  lustre  over  the  affairs  of  real  life  are  soon 
darkened  and  dissipated  by  his  nearer  observance.  A  cor- 
responding change  in  himself  follows.  This  state  is  de- 
scribed through  several  pages,  with  its  various  incidents, 
fluctuations,  and  modifications,  until  the  moral  power 
shows  its  returning  life  by  a  feeling  of  irritable  dissatisfac- 
tion, a  longing  after  higher  good,  and  a  sense  of  capacity 
for  its  enjoyment. 

"  And  now,  when  he  has  run  the  whole  toilsome  yet 
giddy  round  and  arrived  at  the  goal,  there  arises,  even 
though  that  goal  be  religion,  or  because  it  is  religion,  a 
yearning  after  human  sympathies  and  affections.  The 
poem  is  addressed  to  Pauline  ;  with  her  it  begins  and  ends ; 
and  her  presence  is  felt  throughout  as  that  of  a  second  con- 
science, wounded  by  evil,  but  never  stern,  and  incorporate 
in  a  form  of  beauty  which  blends  and  softens  the  strong 
contrasts  of  different  portions  of  the  poem,  so  that  all 
might  be  murmured  by  the  breath  of  affection." 

The  first  of  the  mottoes  to  the  poem  has  been  trans- 
lated in  this  manner  :  — 


Pauline :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession.      285 

"  Not  now  am  I  what  I  have  been, 
Nor  know  how  I  may  be  again." 

The  author  was  the  Norman-French  poet,  Cle'ment  Marot> 
who  lived  from  1497  to  1544,  and  who  was  noted  for  hi& 
satire  and  his  Protestant  spirit.  The  other  prefatory  motto 
is  from  the  preface  to  the  Occult  Philosophy  of  Henry 
Cornelius  Agrippa,  a  French  physician  and  astrologer,  who 
lived  from  1486  to  1535,  and  has  been  put  into  English  in 
this  form :  "  I  douht  not  but  the  title  of  our  book  by  its 
rarity  may  entice  very  many  to  the  perusal  of  it.  Among 
whom  many  of  hostile  opinions,  with  weak  minds,  many 
even  malignant  and  ungrateful  will  assail  our  genius,  who 
in  their  rash  ignorance,  hardly  before  the  title  is  before 
their  eyes,  will  make  a  clamor.  We  are  forbidden  to  teach, 
to  scatter  abroad  the  seeds  of  philosophy,  pious  ears  being 
offended,  clear-seeing  minds  having  arisen.  I,  as  a  coun- 
selor, assail  their  consciences,  but  neither  Apollo,  nor  all 
the  muses,  nor  an  angel  from  heaven,  would  be  able  to  save 
me  from  their  execrations,  whom  now  I  counsel  that  they 
may  not  read  our  books,  that  they  may  not  understand 
them,  that  they  may  not  remember  them,  for  they  are  nox- 
ious, they  are  poisonous.  The  mouth  of  Acheron  is  in  this 
book :  it  speaks  often  of  stones  ;  beware,  lest  by  these  it 
shake  the  understanding.  You,  also,  who  with  fair  mind 
shall  come  to  the  reading,  if  you  will  apply  so  much  of  the 
discernment  of  prudence  as  bees  in  gathering  honey,  then 
read  with  security.  For,  indeed,  I  believe  you  about  to 
receive  many  things  not  a  little  both  for  instruction  and  en- 
joyment. But  if  you  find  anything  that  pleases  you  not,  let 
it  go  that  you  may  not  use  it,  for  I  do  not  declare  these 
things  good  for  you,  but  merely  relate  them.  Therefore  if 
any  freer  word  may  be,  forgive  our  youth ;  I,  who  am  less 
than  a  youth,  have  composed  this  work." 

The  note  on  page  20,  explaining  line  811,  written  in 
French,  and  signed  "  Pauline,"  is  also  important  as  a 
means  of  interpreting  the  poem ;  and  especially  is  it  help- 
ful in  trying  to  get  at  the  purpose  of  the  poet  in  this  work  : 
"  I  much  fear  that  my  poor  friend  will  not  be  always  per- 
fectly understood  in  what  remains  to  be  read  of  this  strange 
fragment,  and  it  is  less  appropriate  than  any  other  part 
to  illustrate  what  of  its  nature  can  never  be  anything  but 


286      Pauline  :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession. 

dream  and  confusion.  Moreover,  I  do  not  very  well  know 
whether  in  seeking  to  connect  certain  parts  better  one  would 
not  run  the  risk  of  obstructing  the  only  merit  to  which  so 
singular  a  production  can  pretend,  —  that  of  giving  a  close 
enough  idea  of  the  kind  of  nature  of  which  it  has  made 
merely  a  sketch.  This  unpretending  opening,  this  stir  of 
passions  which  go  on  at  first  increasing  and  then  by  de- 
grees subside,  these  outbursts  of  the  soul,  this  sudden  re- 
turn upon  himself,  and  above  all,  the  turn  of  mind  quite 
peculiar  to  my  friend,  have  made  alterations  almost  impos- 
sible. The  reasons  he  urges  elsewhere,  with  others  more 
powerful  still,  have  found  grace  in  my  eyes  for  this  work, 
which  otherwise  I  should  have  advised  him  to  throw  into 
the  fire.  I  believe  none  the  less  in  the  great  principle  of 
all  composition,  —  in  the  great  principle  of  Shakespeare, 
Raphael,  and  Beethoven,  —  from  whence  it  follows  that 
concentration  of  ideas  is  due  much  more  to  their  concep- 
tion than  to  their  manner  of  execution  :  I  have  every  rea- 
son to  fear  that  the  first  of  these  qualities  is  still  foreign 
enough  to  my  friend,  and  I  doubt  very  much  if  redoubled 
labor  would  enable  him  to  acquire  the  second.  It  would 
be  best  to  burn  this  ;  but  what  can  I  do  ? 

"  I  think  that  in  what  follows  lie  refers  to  a  certain  in- 
vestigation he  has  made  elsewhere  of  the  soul,  or  rather  of 
his  soul,  in  order  to  discover  the  connection  of  the  objects 
which  it  might  be  possible  for  him  to  attain,  and  from 
each  of  which,  once  obtained,  a  kind  of  platform  could  be 
formed  from  whence  one  could  perceive  other  ends,  other 
plans,  other  joys,  which,  in  their  turn,  could  be  surmounted. 
Thence  it  would  result  that  oblivion  and  sleep  should  come 
to  end  all.  This  idea,  which  I  seize  imperfectly,  is  perhaps 
as  unintelligible  to  him  as  to  me." 

Only  five  years  after  the  publication  of  Pauline  Brown- 
ing had  come  to  feel  its  imperfections,  as  he  indicated  on 
the  fly-leaf  of  a  copy  of  the  book,  according  to  the  report  in 
the  Browning  Bibliography,  page  38  :  — 

"  Pauline  .  .  .  written  in  pursuance  of  a  foolish  plan  I 
forget,  or  have  no  wish  to  remember ;  involving  the  assump- 
tion of  several  distinct  characters :  the  world  was  never  to 
guess  that  such  an  opera,  such  a  comedy,  such  a  speech 
proceeded  from  the  same  notable  person.  Mr.  V.  A.  (see 


Pauline :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession.      287 

page  second)  was  Poet  of  the  party,  and  predestined  to  cut 
no  inconsiderable  figure.  '  Only  this  crab '  (I  find  set 
down  in  my  copy)  '  remains  of  the  shapely  Tree  of  Life  in 
my  fools'  Paradise.' 

"  (I  cannot  muster  resolution  to  deal  with  the  printers' 
blunders  after  the  American  fashion,  and  bid  people  '  for 
jocularity '  read  '  synthesis,'  to  the  end  of  the  chapter). 

"  December  14,  1838." 

In  1868,  when  Browning  was  publishing  an  edition  of  his 
Poetical  Works,  he  included  Pauline,  in  order  to  prevent 
its  publication  by  other  hands  ;  and  the  preface  to  this  edi- 
tion was  a  special  defense  of  this  act.  This  preface,  to- 
gether with  an  addition  to  it  written  for  the  edition  of  1888, 
are  of  value  in  the  study  of  the  poem.  They  are  both 
given  in  the  Riverside  edition  of  1888.  The  poem  was  re- 
vised for  the  edition  of  1888.  Pauline  was  edited  from  the 
original  edition  in  1886,  by  Thomas  J.  Wise,  and  pub- 
lished in  London  by  R.  Clay  &  Sons  ;  pages,  71. 

In  a  note  sent  to  Mr.  Thomas  J.  Wise,  in  1886,  the  poet 
explained  some  passages  in  the  poem :  "  The  King  is 
Agamemnon,  in  the  tragedy  of  that  name  by  Aeschylus  — 
whose  treading  the  purple  carpets  spread  before  him  by  his 
wife,  preparatory  to  his  murder,  is  a  notable  passage.  The 
boy  is  Orestes,  as  described  at  the  end  of  the  Choephoroi  by 
the  same  author.  V.  A.  XX.  is  the  Latin  abbreviation 
of  vixi  annos,  I  was  twenty  years  old,  that  is,  the  imagi- 
nary subject  of  the  poem  was  of  that  age." 

Some  of  the  allusions  in  the  poem  make  it  obscure  until 
they  are  understood.  A  part  of  them  are  here  explained. 

Page  4,  lines  38  and  40,  and  page  5,  line  2,  refer  to 
Shelley. 

Page  8,  line  38.  The  god  wandering  after  beauty  is 
Apollo  seeking  Daphnis.  See  King's  Metamorphoses  of 
Ovid,  i.  554. 

Page  8,  line  39.  The  giant  is  Atlas  as  described  by  Ovid 
in  his  Metamorphoses.  See  King's  translation,  iv.  744. 

Page  8,  line  41.  The  high-crested  chief  is  Nestor,  who 
at  the  close  of  the  Trojan  war  sails  to  Tenedos,  as  related 
in  Homer's  Odyssey.  See  Bryant's  translation,  iii.  200. 

Page  9,  line  6.  The  isles  of  the  blue  sea  are  those  of 
the  Aegean.  —  Line  9.  The  swift-footed  is  Hermes,  the 


288      Pauline  :  A  Fragment  of  a  Confession. 

herald  of  the  gods,  who  with  Proserpine  is  connected  with 
death.  See  Aeschylus'  Choephorae,  i.  136  ;  Ovid's  Meta- 
morpJwses,  ii.  862  ;  Homer's  Odyssey,  x.  608. 

Page  10,  line  36.  The  man  preferred  to  a  system  is 
said  by  Mrs.  Orr  to  refer  to  Plato.  The  editor  of  Poet- 
Lore  is  of  the  opinion  that  the  man  is  Shelley,  who  is 
several  times  referred  to  in  the  poem. 

Page  12,  line  27.  The  Arab  bird  is  the  pelican,  which 
often  goes  far  from  land,  and  continues  its  flight  all  night, 
floating  on  the  wind,  without  moving  its  wings,  for  a  long 
time. 

Page  14,  line  26.  The  king  treading  the  purple  is  Aga- 
memnon, as  described  in  the  play  of  Aeschylus  by  that 
name.  See  Potter's  translation,  line  1017 ;  also  Brown- 
ing's translation,  page  28,  line  22. 

Page  14,  line  32.  The  boy  with  white  breast  and  brow 
is  Orestes,  as  described  in  the  Choephorae  of  Aeschylus. 
See  Potter's  translation,  line  1073. 

Page  16,  line  27.  The  Andromeda  described  is  that  of 
Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  iv.  792.  Also  that  of  a  picture  by 
Polidoro  di  Caravaggio,  an  engraving  of  which  Brown- 
ing had  always  before  his  eyes  while  he  was  writing  this 
and  his  other  earlier  poem.  Of  this  Sharp  says  in  his 
Life :  "  It  is  strange  that  among  all  his  father's  collec- 
tion of  drawings  and  engravings  nothing  had  such  fascina- 
tion for  him  as  an  engraving  of  a  picture  of  Andromeda 
and  Perseus  by  Caravaggio.  The  story  of  the  innocent 
victim  and  the  divine  deliverer  was  one  of  which  in  his 
boyhood  he  never  tired  of  hearing :  and  as  he  grew  older 
the  charm  of  its  pictorial  presentment  had  for  him  a  deeper 
and  more  complex  significance." 

Page  23,  line  44.  The  fair  pale  sister  is  the  Antigone 
described  by  Sophocles  in  his  play  by  that  name,  line  760. 

See  Kingsland  and  Sharp,  The  Monthly  Repository,  W. 
J.  Fox,  7  :  252.  The  Athenaeum,  April  6,  1833.  The 
allusions  in  the  poem  are  explained  in  Poet-Lore, 
January  and  February,  1889.  The  early  criticisms  are 
given  in  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  nine, 
2  :  194*. 

The  question  of  a  reprint  is  discussed  in  The  Atlantic 
Monthly,  49  :  570. 


A  Pearl,  a  Girl.  —  Pheidippides.  289 

Pearl,  A,  a  Girl.     Asolando,  1889. 

Peter  Ronsard.  The  speaker  in  The  Glove,  who  tells 
the  story  of  how  Sir  De  Lorge  snatched  a  glove  from  amidst 
the  lions. 

Pheidippides.     Dramatic  Idyls,  First  Series,  1879. 

This  poem  is  based  on  an  incident  related  in  Herodotus, 
History,  vi.  105,  106  ;  Pausanias,  Description  of  Greece, 
i.  28,  viii.  54 ;  Cornelius  Nepos,  Miltiades,  4.  In  Pausa- 
nias and  Cornelius  Nepos  the  name  of  the  hero  is  Philippi- 
des ;  and  in  Herodotus  both  forms  are  given  in  different 
manuscripts.  In  the  year  490  B.  c.,  when  the  Persians  were 
invading  Greece,  the  former  landed  on  the  coast  of  Attica, 
and  camped  on  the  shore  near  the  plain  of  Marathon.  Word 
of  this  having  been  received  in  Athens  a  consultation  was 
held  by  the  generals,  who  sent  a  swift  runner  to  Sparta  to 
beg  for  aid.  His  adventures  are  described  by  Herodotus  in 
his  History,  as  translated  by  Rawlinson  :  — 

"  And  first,  before  they  left  the  city,  the  generals  sent  off 
to  Sparta  a  herald,  one  Pheidippides,  who  was  by  birth  an 
Athenian,  and  by  birth  and  practice  a  trained  runner.  This 
man,  according  to  the  account  which  he  gave  to  the  Athe- 
nians on  his  return,  when  he  was  near  Mount  Parthenium, 
above  Tegea,  fell  in  with  the  god  Pan,  who  called  him  by 
his  name,  and  bade  him  ask  the  Athenians  '  wherefore  they 
neglected  him  so  entirely,  when  he  was  kindly  disposed  to- 
wards them,  and  had  often  helped  them  in  times  past,  and 
would  do  so  again  in  time  to  come  ?  '  The  Athenians,  en- 
tirely believing  in  the  truth  of  this  report,  as  soon  as  their 
affairs  were  once  more  in  good  order,  set  up  a  temple  to  Pan 
under  the  Acropolis,  and,  in  return  for  the  message  which  I 
have  recorded,  established  in  his  honor  yearly  sacrifices  and 
a  torch-race. 

"  On  the  occasion  of  which  we  speak,  when  Pheidippides 
was  sent  by  the  Athenian  generals,  and,  according  to  his 
own  account  saw  Pan  on  his  journey,  he  reached  Sparta  on 
the  very  next  day  after  quitting  the  city  of  Athens.  Upon 
his  arrival  he  went  before  the  rulers,  and  said  to  them :  — 

"  '  Men  of  Lacedaemon,  the  Athenians  beseech  you  to 
hasten  to  their  aid,  and  not  allow  that  state,  which  is  the 
most  ancient  in  all  Greece,  to  be  enslaved  by  the  barbarians. 
Eretria,  look  you,  is  already  carried  away  captive,  and 
Greece  weakened  by  the  loss  of  no  mean  city.' 


290  Pictor  Ignotus. 

"  Thus  did  Pheidippides  deliver  the  message  committed 
to  him.  And  the  Spartans  wished  to  help  the  Athenians, 
but  were  unable  to  give  them  any  present  succor,  as  they 
did  not  like  to  break  their  established  law.  It  was  the 
ninth  day  of  the  first  decade,  and  they  could  not  march  out 
of  Sparta  on  the  ninth,  when  the  moon  had  not  reached  the 
full.  So  they  waited  for  the  full  of  the  moon." 

Pausanias,  in  his  Description  of  Greece,  gives  the  story 
in  a  briefer  form :  "  And  as  to  Pan,  they  say  that  Philli- 
pides  (who  was  sent  as  a  messenger  to  Lacedaemon  when 
the  Persians  landed)  reported  that  the  Lacedaemonians 
were  deferring  their  march  :  for  it  was  their  custom  not  to 
go  out  on  a  campaign  till  the  moon  was  at  its  full.  But  he 
said  that  he  had  met  with  Pan  near  the  Parthenian  forest, 
and  he  had  said  that  he  was  friendly  to  the  Athenians,  and 
would  come  out  and  help  them  at  Marathon.  Pan  has  been 
honored  therefore  for  this  message." 

The  distance  from  Athens  to  Sparta  is  from  135  to  140 
miles.  Pheidippides  evidently  belonged  to  the  trained  run- 
ners, who  had  great  powers  of  endurance,  and  who  were 
employed  on  occasions  like  this.  The  Spartans  were  cele- 
brating, on  the  arrival  of  Pheidippides,  their  great  national 
festival  of  Carneia,  which  lasted  for  nine  days,  and  during 
which  they  were  not  permitted  to  take  the  field  against  an 
enemy.  Grote  thinks  the  act  of  the  Spartans  the  result  of 
the  "  blind  tenacity  of  ancient  custom."  Rawlinson  is  of 
the  opinion  that  it  "  may  be  explained  on  selfish  grounds, 
and  that  the  excuse  was  no  more  than  a  subterfuge."  The 
Greek  game  of  Lampadephoria,  or  torch-bearing,  may  have 
been  suggestive  to  Browning  in  the  writing  of  this  poem. 
Neither  Herodotus  nor  Plutarch  gives  any  account  of  Phei- 
dippides after  the  battle  of  Marathon,  as  related  by  Brown- 
ing. This  part  of  the  poem  is  probably  original,  or  sug- 
gested by  his  general  knowledge  of  Greek  legend  and  custom. 
See  Mrs.  Orr  and  Symons. 

Pictor  Ignotus.  Florence,  15 — .  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates, 1845.  In  Poetical  Works,  1863,  this  poem  was 
placed  among  Men  and  Women  without  the  second  part  of 
the  title ;  also  in  1868.  In  the  Selections  of  1865  the  full 
title  is  given  ;  and  also  in  the  Poetical  Works  of  1888. 


The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin.  291 

The  character  is  wholly  an  imaginary  one,  but  the  poem 
gives  a  view  of  the  mediaeval  spirit  which  is  truly  historical. 
See  Corson's  Introduction. 

Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  The.  According  to  Mr.  Fur- 
nivall  this  poem  was  written  for  the  son  of  William  Mac- 
ready,  whose  name  was  the  same  as  his  father's ;  and  in 
order  that  he  might  have  something  adapted  to  illustration. 
Browning  had  written  for  the  boy  a  poem  on  the  death  of 
the  Pope's  legate  at  the  Council  of  Trent,  and  this  he  illus- 
trated with  such  clever  drawings  that  the  poet  sought  out 
a  more  picturesque  subject,  and  took  up  that  of  the  Pied 
Piper.  The  poet  seems  to  have  thought  the  poem  of  hut 
little  value ;  and  it  was  only  when  publishing  his  Dramatic 
Lyrics,  as  the  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates, 
that  it  was  put  in  at  the  end,  when  the  poems  already  fur- 
nished did  not  fill  out  the  sheet,  and  the  printers  called  for 
additional  "copy."  Mr.  Gosse  says  the  poem  was  "a,jeu 
d'esprit  which  he  had  written  to  amuse  little  Willie  Mac- 
ready,  and  which  he  had  no  idea  of  publishing." 

It  is  stated  by  Mr.  Furnivall,  in  his  Browning  Bibli- 
ography, that  this  story  was.  taken  by  the  poet  from  The 
Wonders  of  the  Little  World :  or,  A  General  History  of 
Man,  by  Nathaniel  Wanley,  published  in  folio  in  1678. 
Wanley's  account  of  the  Pied  Piper,  as  given  in  a  later  edi- 
tion of  his  work,  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  At  Hammel,  a  town  in  the  Duchy  of  Brunswick,  in  the 
year  of  Christ,  1284,  upon  the  twenty-sixth  day  of  June, 
the  town  being  grieviously  troubled  with  rats  and  mice, 
there  came  to  them  a  piper,  who  promised,  upon  a  certain 
rate,  to  free  them  from  them  all :  it  was  agreed ;  he  went 
from  street  to  street,  and  playing  upon  his  pipe,  drew  after 
him  out  of  the  town  all  that  kind  of  vermin,  and  then  de- 
manding his  wages  was  denied  it.  Whereupon  he  began 
another  tune,  and  there  followed  him  one  hundred  and 
thirty  boys  to  a  hill  called  Koppen,  situate  on  the  north  by 
the  road,  where  they  perished,  and  were  never  seen  after. 
This  piper  was  called  the  Pied  Piper,  because  his  clothes 
vvere  of  several  colors.  This  story  is  writ,  and  religiously 
kept  by  them  in  their  annals  at  Hammel,  read  in  their 
books,  and  painted  in  their  windows  and  churches,  of  which 
I  am  a  witness  by  my  own  sight.  Their  elder  magistrates. 


292  The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin. 

for  the  confirmation  of  the  truth  of  this,  are  wont  to  write 
in  conjunction,  in  their  public  books,  such  a  year  of  Christ, 
and  such  a  year  of  the  transmigration  of  the  children,  etc. 
It  is  also  observed  in  the  memory  of  it,  that  in  the  street 
he  passed  out  of,  no  piper  is  admitted  to  this  day.  The 
street  is  called  Burgelosestrasse  ;  if  a  bride  be  in  that  street, 
till  she  is  gone  out  of  it  there  is  no  dancing  to  be  suffered. 
Wier.  de  Prcestiy.  Daemon.  1.  1,  c.  16,  p.  47.  Schot.  Phys. 
Curios.  \.  3,  c.  24,  p.  519.  HoweVs  Ep.  vol.  i.  §  6,  epist. 
59,  p.  241." 

Wanley's  references  to  the  sources  of  his  account  are 
curious,  but  they  do  not  include  all  which  might  have  been 
given.  The  story  is  told  in  Heylin's  Microcnsmos  and  in 
Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  as  well  as  in  numerous 
more  recent  and  many  older  works.  The  last  of  the  refer- 
ences given  by  Wanley  is  to  James  Howell's  Epistolae  Ho- 
Elianae :  Familiar  Letters  Domestic  and  Jforren,  where 
the  story  is  told  in  these  words  :  — 

*'  The  said  Town  of  Hamelen  was  annoyed  with  Rats 
and  Mice ;  and  it  chac'd,  that  a  Pied-coated  Piper  came 
thither,  who  covenanted  with  the  chief  Burgers  for  such  a 
reward,  if  he  could  free  them  quite  from  the  said  Vermin, 
nor  would  he  demand  it,  till  a  twelvemonth,  and  a  day  after ; 
The  agreement  being  made,  he  began  to  play  on  his  Pipes, 
and  all  the  Rats,  and  the  Mice,  followed  him  to  a  great 
Lough  hard  by,  where  they  all  perish'd ;  so  the  Town  was 
infested  no  more.  At  the  end  of  the  yeer,  the  Pied  Piper 
return's  for  his  reward,  the  Burgers  put  him  off  with 
slightings,  and  neglect,  offring  him  som  small  matter, 
which  he  refusing,  and  staying  som  days  in  the  Town,  one 
Sunday  morning  at  High-Masse,  when  most  people  were  at 
Church,  he  fell  to  play  on  his  Pipes,  and  all  the  children 
up  and  down,  follow'd  him  out  of  the  Town,  to  a  great  Hill 
not  far  off,  which  rent  in  two,  and  open'd,  and  let  him  and 
the  children  in,  and  so  clos'd  up  again  :  This  happen'd  a 
matter  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  yeers  since  ;  and  in  that 
Town  they  date  their  Bills,  and  Bonds,  and  other  instru- 
ments in  Law,  to  this  day  from  the  yeer  of  the  going  out  of 
their  children :  Besides,  ther  is  a  great  piller  of  stone  at 
the  foot  of  the  said  Hill,  wheron  this  story  is  engraven." 

The  first  English  account  of  the  Pied  Piper  is  that  given 


The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin.  293 

by  Richard  Verstegan,  in  his  Restitution  of  Decayed  In- 
telligence, published  in  1605.  In  his  quaint  manner  he 
says  :  — 

"  There  came  into  the  Towne  of  Hamel  in  the  Country 
of  Brunswyicke  an  old  kind  of  companion,  who  for  the  fan- 
Casticall  Coate  which  he  wore,  being  wrought  with  sundry 
colours,  was  called  the  pide  piper ;  for  a  piper  he  was,  be- 
sides his  other  qualities.  This  fellow  forsooth  offered  the 
towns-men  for  a  certaine  somme  of  money  to  rid  the  Towne 
of  all  the  Rats  that  were  in  it  (for  at  that  tyme  the  Burgers 
were  with  that  vermine  greatly  annoyed).  The  accord  in 
fine  being  made  the  pide  Piper  with  a  shrtl  Pipe  went 
Piping  thorow  the  streets,  and  forthwith  the  Rats  came  all 
running  out  of  the  Houses  in  great  numbers  after  him  ;  all 
which  hee  led  into  the  River  of  Weaser,  and  therein  drowned 
them.  This  done,  and  no  one  Rat  more  perceived  to  be  left 
in  the  Towne ;  hee  afterward  came  to  demand  his  reward 
according  to  his  bargaine,  but  being  told  that  the  bargain 
was  not  made  with  him  in  good  earnest,  to  wit,  with  an 
opinion  that  ever  he  could  bee  able  to  doe  such  a  feat :  they 
cared  not  what  they  accorded  unto,  when  they  imagined  it 
could  never  be  deserued,  and  so  never  to  bee  demanded  :  but 
neverthelesse  seeing  hee  had  done  such  an  unlikely  thing  in- 
deed, they  were  content  to  give  him  a  good  reward ;  and  so 
offred  him  farre  lesse  then  he  lookt  for  :  but  hee  therewith 
discontented,  said  he  would  have  his  full  recompence  ac- 
cording to  his  bargain  ;  but  they  utterly  denyed  to  give  it 
him,  he  threatened  them  with  revenge ;  they  bad  him  doe 
his  worst ;  whereupon  he  betakes  him  againe  to  his  Pipe,  and 
going  thorow  the  streets  as  before,  was  followed  of  a  num- 
ber of  boyes  out  at  one  of  the  Gates  of  the  City  ;  and  com- 
ming  to  a  little  Hill,  there  opened  in  the  side  thereof  a 
wid  hole,  into  the  which  himself  &  all  the  children,  being 
in  number  one  hundreth  and  thirty,  did  enter ;  and  being 
entred,  the  Hill  closed  up  againe,  and  become  as  before.  A. 
boy  that  being  lame  and  came  somewhat  lagging  behind  the 
rest,  seeing  this  that  hapned,  returned  presently  backe  and 
told  what  he  had  seene  ;  forthwith  began  great  lamentation 
among  the  Parents  for  their  Children,  and  men  were  sent  out 
withall  diligence,  both  by  land,  and  water  to  enquire  if  ought 
could  be  heard  of  them,  but  with  all  the  enquiry  they  could 


294       Pietro  Comparini.  —  Pietro  of  Abano. 

possibly  use,  nothing  more  than  is  aforesaid  could  of  them 
be  understood.  In  memory  whereof  it  was  then  ordained, 
that  from  thence-forth  no  Druinme,  Pipe,  or  other  instru- 
ment, should  be  sounded  in  the  street  leading  to  the  gate 
thorow  which  they  passed  ;  nor  no  Ostery  to  be  there  holden. 
And  it  was  also  established,  that  from  that  time  forward, 
in  all  publike  writings  that  should  be  made  in  that  Towne, 
after  the  date  therein  set  downe  of  the  yeere  of  our  Lord, 
the  date  of  the  yeere  of  the  going  forth  of  their  Children 
should  be  added,  the  which  they  have  accordingly  ever  since 
continued.  And  this  great  wonder  hapned  on  the  22.  day 
of  luly,  in  the  yeere  of  our  Lord,  1376." 

We  need  not  be  concerned  about  the  difference  in  the 
dates  of  these  accounts,  for  the  story  of  the  Pied  Piper  is 
nothing  more  than  a  myth  of  the  wind.  Mr.  Baring-Gould's 
Curious  Myths  of  the  Middle  Ages  shows  that  the  story  is 
a  widespread  one,  and  that  it  is  related  to  the  Bishop  of 
Hatto,  which  he  also  describes,  to  Goethe's  Erlking,  who 
steals  the  soul  of  the  child,  and  to  many  other  similar  le- 
gends. Mr.  John  Fiske's  Myths  and  Myth-Makers  ex- 
plains the  story  on  mythological  grounds,  and  its  connection 
with  many  other  forms  of  folk-lore.  He  says  that  "  as  Tann- 
hauser  is  the  Northern  Ulysses,  so  is  Goethe's  Erlking  none 
other  than  the  Piper  of  Hainelin.  And  the  piper,  in  turn, 
is  the  classic  Hermes  or  Orpheus,  the  counterpart  of  the 
Finnish  Wainamoinen,  and  the  Sanskrit  Gunadhya.  His 
wonderful  pipe  is  the  horn  of  Oberon,  the  lyre  of  Apollo 
(who,  like  the  piper,  was  a  rat-killer),  the  harp  stolen  by 
Jack  when  he  climbed  the  bean-stalk  to  the  ogre's  castle. 
And  the  father,  in  Goethe's  ballad,  is  no  more  than  right 
when  he  assures  his  child  that  the  siren  voice  which  tempts 
him  is  but  the  rustle  of  the  wind  among  the  dried  leaves  ; 
for  from  such  a  simple  class  of  phenomena  arose  this  entire 
family  of  charming  legends." 

Pietro  Comparini.  The  reputed  father  of  Pompilia, 
in  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  who  is  murdered  with  her  and 
his  wife  by  Count  Guido. 

Pietro  of  Abano.  Dramatic  Idyls,  Second  Series, 
1880. 

This  poem  is  founded  on  the  career  of  Peter  of  Abano, 
a  physician,  alchemist,  and  magician  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 


Pietro  of  Abano.  295 

tury.  Pietro  di  Abano,  known  also  as  Petrus  de  Apono  or 
Aponensis,  was  born  in  1250,  took  his  name  from  the  place 
of  his  birth,  which  was  located  five  and  a  half  miles  from 
Padua.  He  left  the  village  of  Abano  to  study  at  Padua, 
then  went  to  Constantinople  to  acquire  Greek,  and  after- 
wards he  continued  his  studies  in  Paris,  where  he  became  a 
doctor  of  medicine  and  philosophy.  Returning  to  Padua, 
he  became  a  professor  of  medicine,  and  acquired  a  great 
reputation  as  a  physician.  He  followed  the  Arabian  physi- 
cians both  in  his  practice  and  in  the  medical  works  he  wrote. 
He  charged  enormous  prices  for  his  services,,  and  was 
very  avaricious,  amassing  large  wealth.  His  personal  ego- 
tism, together  with  his  dabblings  in  magic  and  astrology, 
raised  him  up  many  enemies.  He  gained  such  a  reputation 
as  a  magician  that  he  was  cited  before  the  Inquisition  in 
1306.  One  charge  popularly  made  against  him  was  that 
his  league  with  the  devil  enabled  him  to  bring  back  into  his 
purse  all  the  money  he  paid  out ;  and  another  was  that  he 
possessed  the  philosopher's  stone.  He  defended  himself  so 
successfully  before  the  Inquisition,  where  he  was  charged 
with  being  a  heretic  and  atheist,  that  he  was  acquitted.  He 
removed  to  Treviso  in  1314,  but  the  next  year  he  was  again 
before  the  Inquisition  on  a  charge  similar  to  the  first.  He 
died,  however,  before  he  could  be  brought  to  trial,  in  the 
year  1315.  The  trial  was  continued,  he  was  condemned, 
and  his  body  was  ordered  to  be  burnt.  A  friend  had  hid- 
den the  body,  and  the  Inquisition  burnt  him  in  effigy,  after 
promulgating  its  sentence.  He  was  a  follower  of  Aver- 
rhoes  and  the  Arabian  writers,  he  translated  their  medical 
works,  and  he  promulgated  their  philosophical  opinions. 
He  was  not  an  original  thinker  or  investigator,  but  he  skill- 
fully used  the  knowledge  he  acquired  from  others.  His 
best  work  is  his  Conciliator  different  iarum  quae  inter  phi- 
losophos  et  medicos  versantur. 

It  is  said  that  Pietro  hated  milk  and  cheese,  that  he  fell 
into  a  swoon  whenever  he  saw  them ;  and  this  report  is 
tnade  use  of  by  Browning.  The  lines  given  by  Browning 
in  a  note,  and  said  to  have  been  found  in  a  well  at  Abano, 
he  translates  ;  and  he  also  refers  to  a  version  by  Father 
Prout,  who  Englished  them  in  fun ;  see  his  Reliques, 
p.  4:- 


296  Pietro  of  Abano. 

"Studying  my  cyphers  with  the  compass, 
I  find  I  shall  soon  be  under  the  daisy ; 
Because  of  my  lore,  folks  make  such  a  rumpus, 
That  every  dull  dog  is  thereat  unaisy." 

At  Padua,  in  the  wall  of  the  vestibule  of  the  Sacristy  of 
the  Church  of  the  Eremitani,  is  set  a  stone  to  the  memory 
of  Pietro  as  follows  :  — 

PETRI   APONI 

Cineres 

Ob.  An.  1315 

Aet.  66. 

The  popular  conception  of  Pietro  in  his  own  time  is  well 
set  forth  in  Mackay's  Popular  Delusions  :  "  Like  his 
friend  Arnold  de  Villeneuve,  he  was  an  eminent  physician, 
and  a  pretender  to  the  arts  of  astrology  and  alchemy.  He 
practiced  for  many  years  in  Paris,  and  made  great  wealth 
by  killing  and  curing,  and  telling  fortunes.  In  an  evil  day 
for  him,  he  returned  to  his  own  country,  with  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  a  magician  of  the  first  order.  It  was  univer- 
sally believed  that  he  had  drawn  seven  evil  spirits  from  the 
infernal  regions,  whom  he  kept  enclosed  in  seven  crystal 
vases  until  he  required  their  services,  when  he  sent  them 
forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  execute  his  pleasure.  One 
spirit  excelled  in  philosophy ;  a  second,  in  alchemy ;  a  third, 
in  astrology  ;  a  fourth,  in  physic  ;  a  fifth,  in  poetry ;  a  sixth, 
in  music ;  and  the  seventh,  in  painting ;  and  whenever 
Pietro  wished  for  information  or  instruction  in  any  of  these 
arts,  he  had  only  to  go  to  his  crystal  vase  and  liberate  the 
presiding  spirit.  Immediately  all  the  secrets  of  the  art 
were  revealed  to  him  ;  and  he  might,  if  it  pleased  him,  ex- 
cel Homer  in  poetry,  Apelles  in  painting,  or  Pythagoras  in 
philosophy.  Although  he  could  make  gold  out  of  brass,  it 
was  said  of  him  that  he  was  very  sparing  of  his  powers  in 
that  respect,  and  kept  himself  constantly  supplied  with 
money  by  other  and  less  creditable  means.  Whenever  he 
disbursed  gold,  he  muttered  a  certain  charm,  known  only 
to  himself,  and  the  next  morning  the  gold  was  safe  again  in 
his  own  possession.  The  trader  to  whom  he  gave  it  might 


Pietro  of  Abano.  .    297 

lock  it  in  his  strong  box  and  have  it  guarded  by  a  troop  of 
soldiers,  but  the  charmed  metal  flew  back  to  its  old  master. 
Even  if  it  were  buried  in  the  earth,  or  thrown  into  the  sea, 
the  dawn  of  the  next  morning  would  behold  it  in  the  pock- 
ets of  Pietro.  Few  people,  in  consequence,  liked  to  have 
dealings  with  such  a  personage,  especially  for  gold.  Some, 
bolder  than  the  rest,  thought  that  his  power  did  not  extend 
over  silver ;  but,  when  they  made  the  experiment,  they 
found  themselves  mistaken.  Bolts  and  bars  could  not  re- 
strain it,  and  it  sometimes  became  invisible  in  their  very 
hands,  and  was  whisked  through  the  air  to  the  purse  of  the 
magician.  He  necessarily  acquired  a  very  bad  character  ; 
and  having  given  utterance  to  some  sentiments  regarding 
religion  which  were  the  very  reverse  of  orthodox,  he  was 
summoned  before  the  tribunals  of  the  Inquisition  to  answer 
for  his  crimes  as  a  heretic  and  sorcerer.  He  loudly  pro- 
tested his  innocence,  even  upon  the  rack,  where  he  suffered 
more  torture  than  nature  could  support.  He  died  in  prison 
ere  his  trial  was  concluded,  but  was  afterwards  found 
guilty." 

The  story  of  the  young  Greek  calling  upon  Pietro  is 
taken  from  the  legends  of  the  time.  A  Spanish  collection 
of  early  stories,  El  Conde  Lucanor,  gives  a  similar  legend, 
and  the  poet  Chamisso  has  put  into  German  verse  a  similar 
story.  In  Bishop  Thirlwall's  Letters  to  a  Friend  he  relates 
a  story  of  a  like  character,  picked  up  in  Spain :  "  A 
young  student  calls  on  Don  Manuel  at  Seville,  and  asks 
for  a  spell  to  get  him  along  in  life.  Don  Manuel  calls  to 
his  housekeeper,  '  Jacinta,  roast  the  partridges.  Don  Diego 
will  stay  to  dinner.'  The  student  makes  a  grand  career ;  is 
Dean,  Bishop,  and  then  Pope  soon  after  he  is  forty.  When 
Don  Manuel  calls  on  him  in  Rome,  he  threatens  the  magi- 
cian, who  has  made  him,  with  the  prisons  of  the  Holy 
Office.  And  then  hears  Don  Manuel  call  out,  '  Jacinta, 
you  need  not  put  down  the  partridges.  Don  Diego  will  not 
stay  to  dinner.'  And  lo !  Diego  found  himself  at  Don 
Manuel's  door,  —  with  his  way  yet  to  make  in  the  world." 

Salomo  si  nosset  (noisset).  Had  Solomon  but  known 
this.  —  Teneor  vix.  I  scarcely  contain  myself.  —  Hactenus 
(e  made  long).  Hitherto. 

Peason.     Old   English  for  peas.  —  Pou  sto.     Where  I 


298      A  Pillar  at  Sebzevar.  —  Pippa  Passes. 

may  stand  ;  the  reputed  saying  of  Archimedes,  that  if  he 
had  a  place  to  stand  he  could  move  the  world. 

Tithon.  Tithonus,  the  lover  of  Aurora,  for  whom  she 
obtained  the  gift  of  eternal  life.  —  Apage,  Sathanas ! 
dicam  verbum  Salomonis  !  Depart,  Satan  !  I  command 
[thee]  in  the  name  of  Solomon  ! 

The  reference  at  the  end  of  the  poem  to  Tiberius  is 
taken  from  Suetonius'  Lives  of  the  Caesars  ;  in  Alexander 
Thomson's  quaint  translation,  as  follows :  "  Soon  after,  as 
he  was  marching  to  Ilyricum,  he  called  to  consult  the  oracle 
of  Geryon,  near  Patuvium  [Padua]  ;  and  having  drawn  a 
lot  by  which  he  was  desired  to  throw  golden  tali  into  the 
fountain  of  Aponus,  for  an  answer  to  his  enquiries,  he  did 
so,  and  the  highest  numbers  came  up.  And  those  very  tali 
are  still  to  be  seen  at  the  bottom  of  the  fountain."  This 
fountain,  situated  in  the  Euganian  hills,  near  Padua, 
famous  for  its  mineral  waters,  is  celebrated  by  Claudian  in 
one  of  his  elegies. 

Venus,  in  the  postscript,  was  the  Roman  term  for  the 
highest  throw  of  the  dice.  "  It  signified,  therefore,"  says 
Mrs.  Orr,  "  the  highest  promise  to  him,  who,  in  obedience 
to  the  oracle,  had  tested  his  fortunes  at  the  fount  of  Abano, 
by  throwing  golden  dice  into  it.  The  '  crystal '  to  which 
Mr.  Browning  refers  is  the  water  of  the  well  or  fount,  at 
the  bottom  of  which,  as  Suetonius  declared,  the  dice  thrown 
by  Tiberius,  and  their  numbers,  are  still  visible.  The  little 
air  which  concludes  the  postscript  reflects  the  careless  or 
'  lilting '  mood  in  which  Mr.  Browning  had  thrown  the 
'  fancy  dice '  which  cast  themselves  into  the  form  of  poem." 

See  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  two,  1 : 191, 
for  the  Rev.  J.  Sharpe's  careful  analysis  of  the  poem  and 
its  teachings,  also  for  a  short  sketch  of  Pietro  of  Abano. 

Pillar  at  Sebzevar,  A.     Ferishtah's   Fancies,  1884. 

The  Hudhud  is  the  fabulous  bird  of  Solomon,  according 
to  Hebrew  and  Mohammedan  legend,  —  the  lapwing,  a 
widely  known  bird  in  Asia  and  Europe.  —  Sitara  is  the 
Persian  name  for  a  star. 

Pippa  Passes :  A  Drama.  The  first  number  of 
Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1841,  was  occupied  by  Pippa 
Passes,  which  filled  sixteen  pages  of  the  double-column 
pamphlet,  and  was  sold  for  sixpence.  Mr.  Gosse  says  the 


Pippa.  —  Poems.  299 

public  was  first  won  to  Browning  by  this  drama.  First  re- 
printed in  the  Poems  of  1849. 

Of  the  origin  of  the  play  Mrs.  Orr  says  :  "Mr.  Brown- 
ing was  walking  alone,  in  a  wood  near  Dulwich,  when  the 
image  flashed  upon  him  of  some  one  walking  thus  alone 
through  life ;  one  apparently  too  obscure  to  leave  a  trace  of 
his  or  her  passage,  yet  exercising  a  lasting  though  uncon- 
scious influence  at  every  step  of  it ;  and  the  image  shaped 
itself  into  the  little  silk-winder  of  Asolo,  Felippa,  or  Pip- 
pa." 

The  scene  of  the  drama  is  laid  at  Asolo,  a  small  town 
thirty  miles  northwest  of  the  city  of  Venice,  and  in  the 
present  province  of  Venice.  See  Asolando  in  this  volume 
for  an  account  of  Asolo. 

The  play  has  no  historical  foundation.  Pippa's  song  in 
the  second  part,  heard  by  Jules  and  Phene,  refers  to  Cate- 
rina  Cornaro,  the  Venetian  queen  of  Cyprus ;  and  this  is 
the  only  historical  fact  in  the  play.  See  p.  39. 

In  his  Select  Poems  Rolfe  gives  this  drama  with  an 
introduction  and  extended  notes.  In  Browning's  Women 
Miss  Burt  devotes  a  part  of  her  chapter  on  lyrical  charac- 
ters to  Pippa. 

Pippa.  The  young  girl  who  works  in  the  silk  mills,  and 
who  is  the  chief  character  in  Pippa  Passes. 

Pisgah.  -  Sights.  Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems, 
1876.  Two  poems,  numbered  as  I.  and  II.,  were  pub- 
lished under  this  title.  In  the  Selections  from  his  poems 
made  by  himself,  Second  Series,  1880,  Browning  put  as  III. 
under  this  title  the  "  Proem  "  to  La  Saislaz. 

Plot-Culture.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

Laila  is  one  of  the  poet's  own  creations,  just  as  Ferishtah 
is  also  a  fictitious  personage. 

Poems.  Under  this  title  Browning  made  in  1849  the 
first  collected  edition  of  his  poetry  ;  but  it  contained  only 
Paracelsus  and  Bells  and  Pomegranates.  It  was  pub- 
lished by  Chapman  &  Hall,  and  was  in  two  volumes.  It 
contained  the  following  words  of  preface  :  — 

"  Many  of  these  pieces  were  out  of  print,  the  rest  had 
been  withdrawn  from  circulation,  when  the  corrected  edi- 
tion, now  submitted  to  the  reader,  was  prepared.  The 


300  Poems. 

various  Poems  and  Dramas  have  received  the  author's  most 
careful  revision. 

"  December,  1848." 

The  first  volume  contained  :  Paracelsus  ;  Pippa  Passes  ; 
King  Victor  and  King  Charles  ;  Colombo's  Birthday.  The 
second  volume  contained  :  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon ;  The 
Return  of  the  Druses ;  Luria ;  A  Soul's  Tragedy ; 
Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics. 

The  first  complete  edition  was  published  in  1863,  hy 
Chapman  &  Hall,  in  three  volumes,  with  the  title :  The 
Poetical  Works  of  Robert  Browning.  Third  Edition. 
Vol.  I.  Lyrics  ;  Romances ;  Men  and  Women.  Vol.  II. 
Tragedies  and  other  Plays.  Vol.  III.  Paracelsus ;  Christ- 
mas-Eve and  Easter-Day ;  Sordello.  In  the  first  volume 
appeared  these  words  :  — 

"  I  dedicate  these  Volumes  to  my  old  friend  John  Fors- 
ter,  glad  and  grateful  that  he  who',  from  the  first  publica- 
tion of  the  various  poems  they  include,  has  been  their 
promptest  and  staunchest  helper,  should  seem  even  nearer 
to  me  now  than  thirty  years  ago.  R.  B." 

"  London,  April  21,  1863." 

The  poems  of  the  first  volume  were  preceded  by  this  note 
of  explanation  as  to  the  new  arrangement  of  its  contents  :  — 

"  In  this  Volume  are  collected  and  redistributed  the 
pieces  first  published  in  1842,  1845,  and  1855,  respectively, 
under  the  titles  of  '  Dramatic  Lyrics,'  '  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances,' and  '  Men  and  Women.'  Part  of  these  were  in- 
scribed to  my  dear  friend  John  Kenyon  :  I  hope  the  whole 
may  obtain  the  honor  of  an  association  with  his  memory. 

"R.  B." 

The  next  complete  edition  was  the  Poetical  Works  of 
1868,  in  six  volumes,  published  by  Smith,  Elder  &  Co. 
The  poems  were  printed  in  the  order  of  their  publication, 
with  a  few  exceptions,  as  follows :  Vol.  I.  Pauline  ;  Para- 
celsus ;  Strafford.  Vol.  II.  Sordello  ;  Pippa  Passes.  Vol. 
III.  King  Victor  and  King  Charles ;  Dramatic  Lyrics ;  The 
Return  of  the  Druses.  Vol.  IV.  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  ; 
Colombe's  Birthday ;  Dramatic  Romances.  Vol.  V.  A 
Soul's  Tragedy  ;  Luria :  Christmas-Eve  and  Easter-Day  ; 
Men  and  Women.  Vol.  VI.  In  a  Balcony;  Dramatis 
Personse. 


Poetics.  —  The  Pope.  301 

In  1888  a  revised  and  complete  edition  was  begun,  and 
was  finished  the  following  year ;  published  by  Smith, 
Elder  &  Co.,  in  sixteen  volumes,  as  follows  :  I.  Pauline ; 
Sordello.  II.  Paracelsus ;  Strafford.  III.  Pippa  Passes ; 
King  Victor  and  King  Charles ;  The  Return  of  the  Druses ; 
A  Soul's  Tragedy.  IV.  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  ;  Cp- 
lombe's  Birthday ;  Men  and  Women.  V.  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances ;  Christmas-Eve  and  Easter  -  Day.  VI.  Dramatic 
Lyrics ;  Luria.  VII.  In  a  Balcony ;  Dramatis  Personse. 
VIII.  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  books  i.  to  vi.  IX.  The 
Ring  and  the  Book,  books  v.  to  viii.  X.  The  Ring  and 
the  Book,  books  ix.  to  xii.  XI.  Balaustion's  Adventure  ; 
Prince  Hohensteil ;  Fifine  at  the  Fair.  XII.  Red  Cotton 
Night-Cap  Country ;  The  Inn  Album.  XIII.  Aristopha- 
nes' Apology ;  The  Agamemnon  of  JEschylus.  XIV.  Pac- 
chiarotto ;  La  Saisiaz ;  Two  Poets  of  Croisic.  XV.  Dra- 
matic Idyls,  First  and  Second  Series  ;  Jocoseria.  XVI.  Fe- 
rishtah's  Fancies  ;  Parleyings. 

It  is  worthy  of  note  fhat  Browning's  complete  works  to 
date  were  published  in  the  successive  numbers  of  the  Offi- 
cial Guide  of  the  Chicago  and  Alton  Railroad,  beginning 
with  December,  1872,  and  ending  with  October,  1874. 
They  were  edited  by  James  Charlton,  the  general  passenger 
agent  of  the  road. 

Poetics.     Asolando,  1889. 

Polyxena.  The  queen  of  Charles  in  King  Victor  and 
Kin'/  Charles,  a  young  and  noble  woman. 

Pompilia.  The  young  girl  married  to  Count  Guido, 
in  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  who  was  brutally  treated 
by  him,  and  when  she  escaped  was  murdered  with  her  par- 
ents at  his  hands.  The  story  of  her  life,  as  she  tells  it  in 
the  seventh  book  of  the  poem,  is  one  of  the  most  pathetic 
of  narratives.  She  takes  rank  as  one  of  the  purest  and  most 
beautiful  of  imaginative  creations  known  in  any  language. 
Poet-Lore,  1  :  263,  contains  a  study  of  this  character. 

Ponte  dell'  Angelo,  Venice.  Asolando,  1889.  See 
Appendix. 

Pope,  The,  in  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  to  whom  is  re- 
ferred the  final  decision  in  the  murder  trial  of  Count  Guido. 
His  summing  up  of  the  case  and  decision  for  capital  pun- 
ishment forms  the  tenth  book  of  the  poem.  See  Poet- 


302  The  Pope  and  the  Net. 

Lore,  1  :  309,  for  an  interpretation  of  this  character,  by  Pro- 
fessor C.  C.  Shackford. 

Pope,  The,  and  the  Net.     Asolando,  1889. 

In  its  main  intent  this  poem  would  apply  to  Sixtus  V. 
better  than  to  any  other  pope,  and  especially  so  when  the 
legendary  accounts  of  him  are  taken  into  view.  His  father 
was  not  a  fisherman,  and  he  did  not  hang  up  in  his  palace 
a  net ;  but  tradition  does  make  him  a  quite  different  man 
before  and  after  his  election  as  pope.  Leti's  biography  of 
Sixtus  represents  him  as  dissembling  before  his  election,  and 
as  using  a  hand  of  power  after  he  had  gained  the  object  of 
his  ambition.  Dr.  Furnivall  is  of  the  opinion  that  Browning 
invented  the  story  of  the  poem. 

The  father  of  Sixtus  V.  was  very  poor,  and  the  son  rose 
step  by  step  to  the  position  of  cardinal,  by  hard  study  and 
zeal.  Leti  describes  him  as  "  very  humble  and  as  faithfully 
discharging  the  duties  of  his  office.  He  dissembled  very 
cunningly,  appeared  to  be  very  aged  and  weak,  scarcely  able 
to  stand  or  walk,  was  obsequious  to  all,  and  appeared  to 
have  no  ambitions. 

"  He  very  seldom  stirred  out,  and  when  he  went  to  mass 
appeared  so  little  concerned  that  one  would  have  thought  he 
had  no  manner  of  interest  in  anything  that  happened  within 
those  walls.  But  he  was  nevertheless  advancing  his  inter- 
est at  a  great  rate,  whilst  he  seemed  to  give  himself  no 
trouble  about  it.  ...  He  had  lived  many  years  in  a  very 
obscure  manner,  with  an  attendance  suitable  to  the  modesty 
and  humility  he  made  profession  of.  When  he  went  to  any 
consistory  or  congregation  he  put  on  an  air  of  mildness  and 
submission,  and  never  was  obstinate  in  supporting  his  own 
opinion  in  contradiction  to  any  other  cardinal,  but  giving  up 
his  own  sentiments,  he  always  suffered  himself  to  be  guided 
by  somebody  else.  .  .  . 

"  He  had  foreseen  that  there  would  be  great  contests  and 
divisions,  and  that  the  chiefs  of  the  parties  would  concur  in 
the  election  of  some  very  old  and  infirm  cardinal,  which 
would  give  them  time  to  lay  their  schemes  better  against 
another  vacancy.  This  was  the  true  reason  of  his  sham- 
ming the  imbecile,  affecting  to  appear  like  a  dying  man.  .  .  . 

"  When  he  perceived  there  was  a  sufficient  number  of  votes 
to  secure  his  election  he  threw  the  staff,  with  which  he  used 


Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau.  303 

to  support  himself,  into  the  middle  of  the  chapel,  stretched 
himself  up,  and  appeared  taller,  by  almost  a  foot,  than  he 
had  done  for  several  years.  .  .  . 

"At  the  very  moment  the  scrutiny  was  ended  he  bid  adieu 
to  that  appearance  of  humility  he  had  so  long  worn.  .  .  . 
Fernese  said  to  him,  '  Your  Holiness  seems  a  quite  different 
sort  of  a  man  from  what  you  were  a  few  hours  ago.'  '  Yes,' 
said  he, '  I  was  then  looking  for  the  keys  of  Paradise,  which 
obliged  me  to  stoop  a  little  ;  but  now  I  have  found  them,  it 
is  time  to  look  upwards,  as  I  am  arrived  at  the  summit  of 
all  human  glory,  and  can  climb  no  higher  in  this  world.' " 

Pope  Sixtus  the  Fifth  goes  out  from  his  palace,  in 
The  Bean-Feast,  to  see  how  his  people  fare,  and  sits  down 
to  eat  beans  with  a  poor  man  and  his  family. 

Popularity.     See  SUPPLEMENT. 

Porphyria's  Lover.  First  printed  in  1836,  in  The 
Monthly  Repository,  edited  by  W.  J.  Fox,  and  published 
in  London  by  Charles  Fox  (vol.  x.  p.  43),  the  title  being 
Porphyria.  It  was  signed  "  Z."  In  the  third  number 
of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  called  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1842, 
this  poem  was  reprinted  as  II.  of  Madhouse  Cells.  In 
the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  printed  by  itself,  and 
with  the  present  title.  Romances,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances, 1868.  This  poem  has  an  interest  as  being  the  first 
monologue  which  Browning  wrote. 

Pretty  "Woman,  A.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Poet- 
ical Works,  1863,  under  Lyrics  ;  1868,  in  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

Prince  Berthold.  The  lawful  claimant  of  the  duchy 
held  by  Colombe,  in  Colombe's  Birthday. 

Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau.  Savior  of  So- 
ciety. Published  in  December,  1871,  by  Smith,  Elder  & 
Co.,  London.  Pages,  i.-iv.,  1-148. 

In  this  poem  Hohenstiel-Schwangau  represents  France ; 
but  the  name  is  formed  from  Hohen  Schwangau,  one  of  the 
castles  of  the  king  of  Bavaria.  The  Prince  is  Louis  Napo- 
leon III.,  and  it  is  he  who  is  speaking  throughout  the  poem, 
addressing  a  woman  who  has  asked  about  his  career.  The 
poem  was  written  immediately  after  the  expulsion  of  Louis 
Napoleon  from  France  by  the  Germans,  and  his  retirement 
to  England.  It  is  a  study  of  his  character,  and  the  means 
by  which  he  came  to  be  the  emperor  of  the  French.  The 


304  Prince  ffohenstiel-Schwangau. 

poet  does  not  adhere  strictly  to  history,  and  he  often  dis- 
cusses quite  other  moral  problems  than  those  which  rightly 
belong  to  the  character  of  Napoleon  III. 

A  curious  interest  connected  with  this  poem  is  that  which 
grows  out  of  the  fact  of  Mrs.  Browning's  great  admira- 
tion for  Napoleon  III.  She  really  regarded  him,  at  the 
time  when  he  became  the  president  of  the  French  republic, 
as  a  savior  of  society,  and  one  from  whom  the  greatest 
things  could  be  expected.  She  had  "  a  truly  marvelous  be- 
lief in  Louis  Napoleon's  goodness  and  genius,"  says  Mr. 
John  H.  Ingram,  her  biographer.  She  idealized  him,  made 
him  a  hero,  looked  to  him  for  the  salvation  of  Italy,  and  be- 
lieved that  he  would  realize  her  own  glowing  convictions 
concerning  democracy.  Writing  to  one  of  her  friends  in 
1852,  Miss  Mary  R.  Mitford  gave  an  account  of  Mrs. 
Browning's  faith  in  Louis  Napoleon :  ;'  Mrs.  Browning 
says  that  the  courage  and  activity  shown  in  the  coup  d'etat 
have  never  been  surpassed.  She  says  that  the  Prince  says 
of  himself,  that  his  life  will  have  four  phases,  —  one  all 
rashness  and  impudence,  necessary  to  make  his  name 
known,  and  to  make  his  own  faults  known  to  himself  ;  the 
next,  to  combat  with  and  triumph  over  anarchy ;  the  third, 
the  consolidation  of  France  and  pacification  of  Europe ; 
and  last,  un  coup  de  pistolet.  The  passion  of  parties  is  so 
excited,  that  the  only  thing  which  renders  the  last  improb- 
able is  the  sort  of  fate  by  which  men  of  that  high  and  calm 
courage  often  escape  dangers  by  braving  them."  In  a  letter 
to  Miss  Mitford  is  to  be  found  these  words  written  by  Mrs. 
Browning :  "  I  wonder  if  the  Empress  pleases  you  as  well 
as  the  Emperor.  I  approve  altogether  —  and  none  the  less, 
that  he  has  offended  Austria  in  the  mode  of  announcement. 
Every  cut  of  the  whip  on  the  face  of  Austria  is  an  especial 
compliment  to  me,  or  so  I  feel  it.  Let  him  lead  the  De- 
mocracy to  do  its  duty  to  the  world,  and  use  to  the  utmost 
his  great  opportunities."  In  her  Poems  before  Congress, 
and  in  other  poems  about  Italian  independence,  especially 
in  her  Napoleon  III.  in  Italy,  she  expressed  her  un- 
bounded faith  in  Louis  Napoleon.  She  did  not  live  long 
enough  to  have  that  faith  destroyed. 

At  first,  Browning  shared  in  a  measure  the  faith  of  his 
wife,  for  he  too  was  a  lover  of  Italy,  and  anxiously  hoped 


Prologue.  305 

for  its  independence  and  unity.  That  early  faith  doubtless 
had  much  to  do  in  causing  him  to  write  his  subtle  analysis 
of  the  character  and  career  of  the  man  who  so  thoroughly 
disappointed  his  hopes.  Later  events  than  those  of  1852 
showed  that  Louis  Napoleon  was  in  some  degree  an  adven- 
turer, that  he  did  not  believe  in  his  own  democratic  utter- 
ances, and  that  he  cared  more  for  personal  success  and 
glory  than  for  the  liberation  of  oppressed  peoples.  The 
contrast  between  what  he  seemed  to  be,  and  what  he  proved 
to  be,  led  the  poet  into  his  study  of  a  character  so  well 
adapted  to  his  love  of  eccentric  and  complex  personalities. 

Of  the  description  of  the  succession  of  Roman  high  priests 
on  page  375,  Mrs.  Orr  says :  "  Mr.  Browning  desires  me  to 
say  that  he  has  been  wrong  in  associating  this  custom  with 
the  little  temple  by  the  river  Clitumnus,  which  he  describes 
from  personal  knowledge.  That  to  which  the  tradition  re- 
fers stood  by  the  lake  of  Nemi." 

In  number  eight  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers, 
2  :  119,  is  a  study  of  this  poem  by  C.  H.  Herford ;  and  in 
number  eleven  is  a  study  by  Joseph  King.  Both  of  these 
will  be  found  very  helpful  in  the  analysis  and  interpretation 
of  the  poem.  Also  The  Neiv  Englander,  33  :  493  ;  The 
Examiner,  Dec.  23,  1871 ;  The  Academy,  G.  A.  Simcox, 
Jan.  15,  1872. 

Prologue.  Ferishtah's  Fancies.  The  valley  of  the 
Aosta,  in  which  this  poem  was  written,  is  in  the  northern 
part  of  Piedmont.  Gressony  is  a  village  in  this  valley.  — The 
ortolan  is  a  song  bird  of  Europe,  and  here  refers  to  the 
Emberiza  hortulana,  or  garden  bunting,  which  is  very  com- 
mon in  Haly.  This  particular  ortolan  is  not  a  songster,  but 
is  greatly  valued  for  food.  These  birds  are  captured  in 
great  numbers,  artificially  fattened,  and  prepared  for  the 
table  in  the  manner  described  in  the  poem.  When  fattened 
the  ortolan  is  a  mere  lump  of  fat,  of  a  luscious  flavor,  and 
is  highly  prized  by  gourmands. 

Prologue.  Pacchiarotto.  Given  in  the  Second  Series 
of  Selections,  1880,  under  the  title,  A  Wall.  Mrs.  Orr 
says  it  "  is  a  fanciful  expression  of  the  ideas  of  impediment 
visible  and  invisible,  which  may  be  raised  by  the  aspect  of 
a  brick  wall ;  such  a  one,  perhaps,  as  projects  at  a  right 
angle  to  the  window  of  Mr.  Browning's  study,  and  was  be- 


306  Prospice. 

fore  him  when  he  wrote."  See  Rolfe's  Select  Poems  for 
comments  and  notes. 

Prospice.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

This  title  means  "  Looking  forward."  The  poem  was 
written  in  the  autumn  succeeding  the  death  of  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing, and  it  is  the  poet's  expression  of  his  strong  faith  in  a 
personal  immortality.  His  faith  in  a  life  beyond  death  ap- 
pears in  Apparent  Failure,  Pisgah  Sights,  Evelyn  Hope, 
Rabbi  Ben  Ezra,  Jochanan  Hakkadosh,  La  Saisiaz,  Rev- 
erie, and  other  poems.  In  these  poems,  as  well  as  in  Pro- 
spice, his  manner  is  dramatic  and  poetical,  but  the  idea  is 
quite  as  distinct  as  and  more  emphatic  than  in  plain  prose. 

He  has  also  spoken  in  prose.  To  a  friend,  not  long  before 
his  death,  he  said  :  "  Death,  death !  It  is  this  harping  on 
death  I  despise  so  much,  —  this  idle  and  often  cowardly  as 
well  as  ignorant  harping  !  Why  should  we  not  change  like 
everything  else  ?  In  fiction,  in  poetry,  French  as  well  as 
English,  and,  I  am  told,  in  American  art  and  literature,  the 
shadow  of  death  —  call  it  what  you  will,  despair,  negation, 
indifference  —  is  upon  us.  But  what  fools  who  talk  thus ! 
Why,  amico  mio,  you  know  as  well  as  I  that  death  is  life, 
just  as  our  daily,  our  momentarily,  dying  body  is  none  the 
less  alive  and  ever  recruiting  new  forces  of  existence.  With- 
out death,  which  is  our  crape-like  churchyardy  word  for 
change,  for  growth,  there  could  be  no  prolongation  of  that 
which  we  call  life.  Pshaw  !  it  is  foolish  to  argue  upon  such 
a  thing  even.  For  myself,  I  deny  death  as  an  end  of  any- 
thing. Never  say  of  me  that  I  am  dead." 

At  an  earlier  period,  and  to  another  friend,  he  said  :  "  If 
there  is  anything  I  hold  to,  it  is  that :  why,  I  know  I  shall 
meet  my  dearest  friends  again  !  " 

In  1876  a  lady  who  believed  herself  to  be  dying  wrote 
to  the  poet  to  thank  him  for  the  help  she  had  found  in  his 
poems,  especially  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra  and  Abt  Vogler ;  and 
he  sent  her  a  reply  which  indicates  how  strong  was  his 
faith  :  "  It  would  ill  become  me  to  waste  a  word  on  my  own 
feelings,  except  inasmuch  as  they  can  be  common  to  us  both, 
in  such  a  situation  as  you  describe  yours  to  be,  and  which, 
by  sympathy,  I  can  make  mine  by  the  anticipation  of  a  few 
years  at  most.  It  is  a  great  thing,  the  greatest,  that  a  hu- 
man being  should  have  passed  the  probation  of  life,  and 


Protus.  307 

sum  up  its  experience  in  a  witness  to  the  power  and  love  of 
God.  I  dare  congratulate  you.  All  the  help  I  can  offer, 
in  my  poor  degree,  is  the  assurance  that  I  see  ever  more 
reason  to  hold  by  the  same  hope  —  and  that  by  no  means  in 
ignorance  of  what  has  been  advanced  to  the  contrary  ;  and 
for  your  sake  I  would  wish  it  to  be  true  that  I  had  so  much 
of  genius  as  to  permit  the  testimony  of  an  especially  privi- 
leged insight  to  come  in  aid  of  the  ordinary  argument.  For 
I  know  I,  myself,  have  been  aware  of  the  communication  of 
something  more  subtle  than  a  ratiocinative  process,  when 
the  convictions  of  genius  have  thrilled  my  soul  to  its  depths, 
as  when  Napoleon,  shutting  up  the  New  Testament,  said  of 
Christ :  '  Do  you  know  that  I  am  an  understander  of  men  ? 
Well,  He  was  no  man !  (Savez-vous  que  je  me  connais  en 
hommes  ?  Eh  bien,  celui-la  ne  fut  pas  un  homme  /)  '  Or 
as  when  Charles  Lamb,  in  a  gay  fancy  with  some  friends, 
as  to  how  he  and  they  would  feel  if  the  greatest  of  the  dead 
were  to  appear  suddenly  in  flesh  and  blood  once  more,  on 
the  final  suggestion,  '  And  if  Christ  entered  this  room  ? ' 
changed  his  manner  at  once,  and  stuttered  out,  as  his  man- 
ner was  when  moved,  '  You  see,  if  Shakespeare  entered  we 
should  all  rise  ;  if  He  appeared  we  must  kneel.'  Or,  not  to 
multiply  instances,  as  when  Dante  wrote  what  I  will  tran- 
scribe from  my  wife's  Testament,  wherein  I  recorded  it 
fourteen  years  ago,  '  Thus  I  believe,  thus  I  affirm,  thus  I 
am  certain  it  is,  that  from  this  life  I  shall  pass  to  another 
better,  there,  where  that  lady  lives  of  whom  my  soul  was 
enamored.'  " 

Reference  is  made  to  Mrs.  Browning  at  the  end  of  the 
poem,  which  expresses  the  depth  of  his  conviction  that  he 
would  pass  to  that  life  where  lives  the  lady  of  whom  his 
soul  was  enamored. 

See  Corson,  Rolfe,  and  Kingsland.  This  poem  was  set  to 
music  by  C. V.  Stanford  ;  London,  Stanley,  Lucas  &  Webber. 

Protus.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Romances,  1863 ; 
Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

This  poem  is  wholly  imaginary,  but  it  accurately  de- 
scribes the  rapid  changes  in  rulers  in  the  later  Roman  Em- 
pire. The  bust  of  the  "  baby-face  with  violets  in  the  hair  " 
is  an  imaginary  one. 

Protus.  The  Tyrant  to  whom  Cleon,  in  the  poem  with 
that  title,  addresses  his  letter  on  the  imperfections  of  life. 


308  TJie  Queen.  —  Rabbi  ben  Ezra. 

Queen.  The.  In  In  a  Balcony,  a  woman  of  middle 
age,  who  loves  Norbert,  the  lover  of  Constance.  Although 
married,  the  Queen  proposes  to  secure  a  divorce,  and  then 
to  wed  Norbert.  When  she  learns  that  he  loves  and  will 
only  wed  Constance  her  anger  is  great ;  and  under  its  omi- 
nous shadow  this  fragmentary  drama  closes. 

Rabbi  ben  Ezra.     Dramatis  Persona',  1864. 

Rabbi  ben  Ezra  is  called  by  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica 
Abenezra  or  Ibn  Ezra,  and  also  Abenare  or  Evenare  ;  and 
it  says  his  real  name  was  Abraham  ben  Meir  ben  Ezra. 
According  to  Friedlander  his  family  name  was  Ibn  Ezra, 
and  his  surname  Abraham.  The  same  authority  says  his 
father's  name  was  Meir  Ibn  Ezra.  Abraham  Ibn  Ezra 
was  born  in  Toledo,  then  a  city  of  more  intellectual  life  than 
any  other  in  Europe,  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century, 
different  authorities  giving  the  year  as  1092  and  1093. 
His  family  was  poor,  and  he  passed  through  many  hard- 
ships in  youth.  He  studied  hard,  having  a  genius  for 
learning,  and  he  found  many  opportunities  for  acquiring 
knowledge  in  the  city  of  his  birth.  He  had  excellent 
teachers,  and  books  were  at  hand.  He  early  showed  a  taste 
for  poetry,  and  he  wrote  both  liturgical  and  secular  poems. 
In  a  poem  written  in  later  life  he  says  :  — 

"  In  former  days,  when  I  was  young, 
I  poured  forth  my  soul  in  song  ; 
For  fain  would  I,  with  poesy's  jewels 
Adorn  my  own,  my  Hehrew  nation." 

His  learning  drew  to  him  pupils  from  far  and  near,  who 
propounded  to  him  questions  on  a  great  variety  of  subjects. 
Among  his  intimate  friends  was  the  principal  Hebrew  poet 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  Jehudah  Hallevi.  Tradition  says  that 
Ibn  Ezra  was  the  son-in-law  of  Hallevi,  and  tells  a  romantic 
tale  of  how  the  daughter  was  won.  Friedlander  tells  this 
story  in  his  introduction  to  Ibn  Ezra's  Commentary  on 
Isaiah;  and  it  is  somewhat  differently  related  in  a  paper 
on  Hallevi  in  the  Papers  of  the  Society  of  Hebrew  Litera- 
ture, for  1886. 

Ibn  Ezra  evidently  had  no  gift  for  prospering  in  worldly 
matters  ;  he  was  too  much  the  student.  He  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  provide  for  his  family  and  to  establish  a  home.  He 
was  often  discouraged  and  poured  out  his  grief  in  poetry ; 


Rabbi  ben  Ezra.  309 

but  he  was  also  full  of  trust  in  God,  strong  in  love  of  liis 
people,  witty,  lively,  and  alert  in  mind.  The  unsettled  con- 
dition of  affairs  in  Toledo,  owing  to  the  contests  between 
Moors  and  Christians,  caused  him  to  leave  that  city.  He 
went  with  his  son  Isaac  to  Damascus,  where  they  parted ; 
but  the  Holy  Land  was  probably  the  main  object  of  his 
Eastern  travels.  Little  is  definitely  known  of  his  travels, 
but  he  seems  to  have  been  in  Egypt,  Arabia,  possibly  even 
Persia  and  India.  He  also  traveled  in  France,  Italy,  and 
England,  many  of  his  works  having  been  produced  on  his 
journeys  through  those  countries.  Friedlander  says,  "  It 
would  seem  that  he  came  to  Africa  together  with  Rabbi 
Jehudah  Halle  vi,  when  the  latter  was  on  his  way  to  the  Holy 
Land.  An  anecdote  represents  him  as  visiting  Egypt  at 
the  time  when  the  great  philosopher  Maimonides  was  living 
there.  .  .  .  But  little  is  said  in  his  commentaries  on  the 
Bible  of  his  observations  and  investigations  in  Africa.  He 
gives  some  interesting  information  about  the  Nile,  the  posi- 
tion of  Raamses,  the  Red  Sea,  etc.  In  Arabia  he  tasted 
the  so-called  manna,  and  convinced  himself  by  experiments 
that  it  was  quite  different  from  that  heavenly  manna  which 
God  gave  the  Israelites  during  their  wanderings  through  the 
Arabian  desert.  While  staying  in  Tiberias  in  Palestine,  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  old  manuscripts  of  the  Bible, 
and  had  conferences  with  the  elders  of  the  congregation  on 
that  subject.  Tiberias  was  certainly  not  the  only  town  in 
Palestine  which  he  visited,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  ven- 
tured upon  entering  the  Holy  City,  which  at  the  time  when  a 
Christian  sovereign  ruled  in  it  would  not  offer  to  the  Jewish 
pilgrim  any  protection  or  safety.  There  are  some  critics, 
both  of  the  old  and  modern  school,  who  are  of  the  opinion 
that  Ibn  Ezra  never  was  in  Jerusalem,  because  his  remarks 
touching  its  topography  are  based  on  imagination  rather 
than  on  personal  investigation,  and  appear  to  be  in  direct 
opposition  to  the  results  of  modern  scientific  researches.  .  .  . 
"  Even  from  the  scanty  remarks  which  we  find  in  his 
commentaries,  we  may  conclude  how  attentively  he  observed 
everything  in  the  countries  through  which  he  traveled.  He 
studied  everywhere  the  character  and  customs  of  the  people, 
their  dress,  and  food.  .  .  .  His  remarks  on  the  Nile,  on  the 
Mediterranean,  the  difference  of  time  between  London  or 


310  Rabli  ben  Ezra. 

other  places  and  Jerusalem,  and  similar  interesting  obser- 
vations, show  that  he  made  himself  well  acquainted  with 
the  physical,  mathematical,  and  political  geography  of  the 
various  countries  through  which  he  passed.  It  need  hardly 
be  said,  that  the  condition  of  the  Jews,  the  opinion  and 
knowledge  which  other  people  had  of  his  brethren,  were 
matters  of  great  interest  to  Ibn  Ezra.  A  few  remarks  on 
that  point  tell  us  how  strange  and  sorrowful  the  results  of 
his  researches. are,  and  how  much  he  himself  must  have 
suffered  as  a  Jewish  traveler. 

"A  curious  anecdote  is  related  in  connection  with  his 
travels.  It  is  said,  that  once  when  he  was  on  board  a  vessel 
with  some  of  his  pupils,  a  raging  storm  compelled  the  cap- 
tain to  throw  every  ninth  man  overboard  ;  by  means  of  an 
algebraical  formula,  which  his  mathematical  knowledge  had 
discovered,  he  placed  himself  and  his  party  in  such  a  posi- 
tion that  the  fatal  number  never  reached  one  of  them  ;  but 
neither  the  plan  of  the  captain  nor  the  counter-plot  of  Ibn 
Ezra  is  sufficiently  known." 

Ibn  Ezra  found  a  home  for  some  years  in  Italy,  and  he 
lived  in  Home,  Lucca,  Mantua,  and  Salerno.  Rome  disap- 
pointed him  with  the  ignorance  of  its  inhabitants  and  the 
incapacity  of  the  pope.  He  devoted  himself  to  his  studies 
and  to  literary  production  for  some  months  in  that  city,  his 
commentaries  on  the  Bible  being  commenced  there.  His 
books  on  Ecclesiastes  and  Job  were  published  while  he  was 
there,  and  were  well  received  by  his  people.  Friedlander 
says,  "  He  worthily  used  the  ample  opportunities  given  in 
these  works  for  the  display  of  his  talents,  experience,  and 
knowledge.  His  style  and  mode  of  witticism,  his  principles 
and  arguments,  must  have  been  entirely  new  to  his  brethren 
in  Italy,  where  the  study  of  the  Talmud  and  Midrash,  and 
the  style  of  Kalir's  poetry,  seems  to  have  obtained  the  vic- 
tory over  the  exegetical,  grammatical,  philosophical,  and 
poetical  works  of  the  Spanish  school.  We  are  not  informed 
how  far  he  succeeded  in  enlisting  among  the  Italian  Jewish 
communities  the  attention  and  respect  due  to  these  branches 
of  learning ;  but  this  is  certain,  that  he  found  friends  and 
admirers,  who  eagerly  listened  to  his  instruction,  and  gladly 
provided  for  his  livelihood." 

In  Lucca  Ibn  Ezra  remained  for  a  longer  period,  and  he 


Rabbi  ben  Ezra.  311 

called  it  his  residence.  There  he  wrote  on  astronomy  and 
mathematics,  and  there  he  produced  his  commentary  on 
Isaiah.  A  severe  illness  came  upon  him,  which  caused  him 
to  make  a  vow  that  if  he  recovered  he  would  write  a  com- 
mentary on  the  Pentateuch.  This  work  he  began  at  the 
age  of  sixty-four,  but  he  completed  it,  and  then  rewrote  it. 
This  commentary  is  regarded  as  the  most  original  and 
learned  of  all  his  writings. 

After  this  he  visited  England  and  lived  for  some  time  in 
London.  His  fame  had  preceded  him,  and  he  was  welcomed 
by  his  brethren.  While  in  London  he  wrote  a  pamphlet  on 
the  study  of  the  Law  and  the  nature  of  the  Divine  Com- 
mandments, and  another  on  the  time  when  the  Sabbath  day 
commences.  The  first  of  these  works  was  written  for  "  a 
certain  Salomon,"  who  is  described  by  him  as  being  "  a 
man  of  truth,  upright,  and  God-fearing."  After  leaving 
London  he  returned  to  France,  where  he  had  been  for  some 
time  previous  to  his  visit  to  England ;  and  there  he  con- 
tinued his  literary  labors.  In  the  south  of  France,  at 
Bezieres  and  Rhodez,  he  lived  honored  and  respected  by 
his  people ;  and  under  these  happy  auspices  his  commen- 
taries were  continued.  Ibn  Ezra  died  at  the  age  of  seventy- 
five.  One  authority  says  he  died  at  Rome,  Jan.  23,  1167  ; 
but  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica  gives  the  date  as  1168. 
Friedlander  says  he  died  in  Kalahorra,  on  the  frontier  of 
Navarre,  as  some  report,  or  in  Rome  according  to  other 
authorities. 

Through  all  the  years  of  his  wanderings  he  was  very 
busy  as  a  writer,  gaining  a  wide  fame  as  a  theologian, 
philosopher,  physician,  astronomer,  mathematician,  and  poet. 
He  wrote  a  work  on  astronomy,  another  on  the  Talmud, 
and  he  was  especially  able  as  a  writer  on  Hebrew  grammar. 
His  great  work  was  a  series  of  Commentaries  on  the  Old 
Testament,  including  all  its  books,  though  a  few  of  these  do 
not  now  exist.  The  writer  in  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica 
says  his  "  commentaries  are  acknowledged  to  be  of  great 
value ;  he  was  the  first  who  raised  Biblical  exegesis  to  the 
rank  of  a  science,  interpreting  the  text  according  to  its  literal 
sense,  and  illustrating  it  from  cognate  languages."  He 
usually  wrote  in  the  Jewish  or  vulgar  dialect  of  the  Hebrew, 
but  he  was  familiar  with  the  classical  Hebrew,  as  well  as 


312  BabU  ben  Ezra. 

with  Aramaic  and  Arabic.  His  style  was  elegant,  but  con- 
cise, occasionally  epigrammatic,  and  sometimes  obscure. 
He  was  a  strong  thinker,  his  works  show  a  philosophical 
turn  of  mind  ;  and  he  was  intimate  with  the  natural  sciences, 
as  they  were  taught  in  his  day,  and  especially  among  the 
Moors  and  Arabs.  He  had  a  leaning  towards  astrology,  as 
nearly  all  men  interested  in  physical  science  then  had,  for 
astronomy  was  then  but  another  name  for  astrology ;  but  he 
was  an  acute  and  inquiring  observer.  He  was  in  the  habit, 
when  on  his  travels,  of  lecturing  at  the  places  where  he 
stopped  on  grammar,  theology,  astronomy,  and  other  sub- 
jects. In  England  Joseph  Mandeville  was  in  this  way  one 
of  his  pupils. 

Ibn  Ezra  found  in  Platonism,  as  modified  first  by  the 
Neo-Platonists  and  then  by  the  Arabian  thinkers,  the  basis 
of  his  philosophy.  He  believed  that  the  universe  contains 
an  ideal  element,  which  never  passes  away  ;  and  also  a 
material  element,  which  is  subject  to  constant  change  and 
destruction.  What  to  Plato  was  of  the  nature  of  reason  or 
mental  activity  was  to  Ibn  Ezra  of  the  nature  of  spiritual 
existences.  To  him  the  ideals  were  purely  spiritual,  in- 
visible, everlasting ;  also  they  occupy  the  heaven  of 
heavens,  and  are  the  models  after  which  the  universe  is 
formed.  In  his  cosmology  these  ideals  or  angelic  creatures 
create  the  universe  and  govern  it,  as  the  deputies  of  God. 
Friedlander  says  that  to  Ibn  Ezra  "the  ideals  bear  a  strong 
resemblance  to  the  fixed,  eternal  laws  of  nature,  by  which 
the  Cosmos  is  regulated  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  they  seem 
to  participate  in  the  properties  of  the  Biblical  angels,  and  to 
be  charged  with  executing  the  decrees  of  the  Almighty." 
God,  the.  ideals,  and  the  material  world,  are  related  to  each 
other  as  genera,  species  and  individua.  In  this  way  he 
held  to  the  immanence  of  God,  for  God  creates  and  sustains 
all  things. 

Man  is  a  microcosm,  created  in  the  image  of  God,  and 
solely  by  the  will  of  the  Almighty.  This  makes  man  unlike 
all  other  created  beings,  for  he  owes  his  supremacy  to  the 
soul,  to  his  being  of  like  nature  with  God.  Man  has  a 
double  nature ;  he  is  spiritual  and  he  is  material.  As  a 
spiritual  being  he  has  free  will ;  as  a  material  being  he  has 
desire,  lust,  and  passion.  Will  is  beset  with  many  material 


Rabbi  ben  Ezra.  313 

temptations,  but  through  its  freedom  it  is  able  to  overcome 
them.  The  following  summary  of  Ibn  Ezra's  teachings 
about  the  soul  will  be  of  interest  in  connection  with  Brown- 
ing's poem :  "  In  the  presence  of  the  claims  of  the  divine 
and  immortal  element  of  our  existence,  the  well-being  of  the 
earthly  and  mortal  body  cannot  be  the  leading  object  of  all 
our  thoughts  and  actions.  The  soul,  only  a  stranger  and 
prisoner  in  the  body,  filled  with  a  burning  desire  to  return 
home  to  its  heavenly  abode,  certainly  demands  our  principal 
attention.  If  we  succeed  in  securing  for  the  soul  its  perfec- 
tion and  happiness,  these  will  be  enjoyed  forever ;  if  we  fail, 
the  loss  is  much  more  to  be  deplored  than  the  forfeited  well- 
being  of  the  body. 

"  The  greatest  happiness  of  the  soul  is  said  to  consist  in 
the  highest  and  most  perfect  knowledge  of  God.  The  soul 
descends  from  heaven  as  a  tabula  rasa,  a  blank,  which  is 
to  be  filled  up  with  the  knowledge  gathered  here  on  earth 
during  a  sojourn  in  the  body.  On  the  attainment  of  this 
object  the  soul's  true  happiness  depends ;  in  case  of  success, 
the  soul  is  received  into  the  chorus  of  angels  which  surround 
the  throne  of  the  Almighty  and  delight  in  the  splendor  of 
his  everlasting  glory. 

"  The  power  of  determining  the  future  of  the  soul  is 
entirely  in  the  will  of  man.  It  must  therefore  be  man's 
primary  duty  to  do  everything  by  which  his  will  may  be 
influenced  in  favor  of  his  heavenly  soul.  .  .  .  The  know- 
ledge of  God  cannot  be  attained  by  direct  means  ;  it  can 
only  indirectly  be  approached  by  the  study  of  his  works  in 
the  universe,  and  especially  in  man,  the  microcosm.  By 
knowing  ourselves,  by  considering  how  the  invisible,  incor- 
poreal, immortal  soul  fills  and  governs  the  whole  visible, 
mutable  body,  we  are  by  analogy  enabled  to  conceive  the 
idea  of  an  invisible,  eternal  Being,  who  fills  and  governs  the 
whole  universe.  The  investigation  of  the  origin,  nature,  and 
aim  of  the  soul  is  therefore  indispensable  to  all  who  wish  to 
find  the  right  path  of  life.  .  .  . 

"  It  is  not  so  much  the  soul  of  the  righteous  that  is  to  be 
everlasting,  as  —  to  use  the  figure  of  the  tabula  rasa  applied 
to  the  original  state  of  the  soul  —  the  divine  writing  in- 
scribed thereon,  that  is  to  say,  the  knowledge  acquired  by 
the  soul  during  its  connection  with  the  body.  ...  So  long  as 


314  Rabbi  ben  Ezra. 

the  mind  is  on  its  road  to  perfection,  gathering  more  and 
more  knowledge,  subject  and  object  are  not  identical ;  but 
when  it  arrives  at  the  highest  degree  of  perfection,  it  has 
acquired  that  truth  which  includes  all  elements  of  human 
knowledge.  The  soul  is  then  like  God,  who  in  perceiving 
anything,  is  the  subject  which  perceives,  the  object  per- 
ceived, and  the  perception  itself.  When  the  mental  faculties 
of  man  reach  this  degree  of  perfection,  they  are  no  longer 
a  quality  or  action  of  the  soul,  they  are  the  soul  itself,  in  a 
new  form ;  they  are  like  an  angel,  '  cleaving  unto  the  Most 
High,'  and  participate,  to  some  extent  at  least,  in  his  divine 
power.  ...  In  the  same  way  the  soul  which  has  acquired 
a  true  knowledge  of  the  Eternal,  is  believed  to  share  in  his 
eternity,  and  to  receive  the  reward  which  no  eye  except  that 
of  the  Eternal  ever  saw,  but  which  '  he  will  bestow  on  those 
who  wait  on  him.'  " 

Dr.  M.  Friedlander  has  devoted  five  volumes  to  an  expo- 
sition of  the  writings  of  Ibn  Ezra,  and  these  are  published 
for  The  Society  of  Hebrew  Literature,  by  Trubner  &  Co., 
London.  The  first  series  of  these  volumes  consists  of  three 
works.  The  first  contains  The  Commentary  of  Ibn  Ezra 
on  Isaiah,  edited  from  MSS.,  and  translated,  with  notes, 
introduction,  and  indexes.  The  introduction  contains  the 
biography  which  has  been  condensed  above.  The  second 
volume  contains  the  Anglican  version  of  the  book  of  the 
Prophet  Isaiah  emended  according  to  the  commentary  of 
Ibn  Ezra.  The  third  volume  contains  the  Hebrew  text  of 
the  commentary  on  Isaiah,  edited  according  to  manuscripts. 
The  second  series  consists  of  two  volumes.  The  first  volume 
contains  an  account  of  the  philosophy  of  Ibn  Ezra,  including 
his  cosmogony,  anthropology,  and  theology  ;  also  an  essay 
on  the  writings  of  Ibn  Ezra,  describing  his  commentaries, 
where  manuscripts  of  them  may  be  found,  the  various 
editions  which  have  been  printed,  and  much  other  rare 
bibliographical  information.  It  concludes  with  unedited 
fragments  of  Ibn  Ezra's  commentaries,  in  Hebrew.  The 
second  volume  of  this  series  treats  of  the  connection  of  Ibn 
Ezra's  system  of  philosophy  with  that  of  his  predecessors 
and  immediate  successors. 

Many  of  the  manuscripts  of  Ibn  Ezra's  writings  are  con- 
tained in  English  libraries.  His  commentaries  have  been 


Red  Cotton  Night-Cap  Country.  315 

frequently  edited  and  quoted  from  by  Biblical  students 
among  the  Hebrews.  His  commentary  on  Lamentations 
was  translated  into  English  in  1615,  that  on  Ruth  in  1703, 
and  that  on  Shir  hashshirim  by  H.  J.  Mathews,  London, 
1874. 

The  potter's  wheel  of  1.  26  is  from  Isaiah  Ixiv.  8  and 
Jeremiah  xviii.  2-6.  Francis  Quarles,  in  his  Emblems, 
uses  the  same  metaphor  :  — 

"  Eternal  Potter,  whose  blest  hands  did  lay 
My  coarse  foundation  from  a  sod  of  clay 
Thou  know'st  my  slender  vessel '  s  apt  to  break : 
Oh,  mend  what  Thou  hast  made,  what  I  have  broke ; 
Look,  look,  with  gentle  eyes,  and  in  Thy  day 
Of  vengeance,  Lord,  remember  I  am  clay." 

See  Berdoe's  Browning's  Message  to  his  Time  ;  Poet- 
Lore,  1 : 57  ;  Rolfe's  Select  Poems,  and  Corson's  Introduc- 
tion. Under  the  title  Grow  Old  Along  with  Me  the 
first  part  of  this  poem  has  been  set  to  music  by  Georgiana 
Schuyler  ;  New  York,  G.  Schirmer. 

Rene  Gentilhomme.  The  first  of  the  poets  in  Two 
Poets  of  Croisic,  which  see. 

Red  Cotton  Night-Cap  Country,  or  Turf  and 
Towers.  Published  by  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  London, 
1873 ;  at  the  end  the  poem  is  dated  "  January  23,  1873." 
Pages,  i.-vi.,  1-282.  Dedicated  "  To  Miss  Thackeray,"  who 
has  since  become  Mrs.  Richmond  Ritchie. 

Mrs.  Orr  thus  describes  the  manner  in  which  the  poem 
came  to  have  its  name :  "  The  narrative  is  addressed  to 
Miss  Annie  Thackeray  [the  novelist,  and  daughter  of  W. 
M.  Thackeray]  ;  and  its  supposed  occasion  is  that  of  a 
meeting  which  took  place  at  St.  Rambert  —  actually  St. 
Aubin  —  between  her  and  Mr.  Browning,  in  the  summer  of 
1872.  She  had  laughingly  called  the  district  "  White  Cot- 
ton Night-Cap  Country,"  from  its  sleepy  appearance,  and 
the  universal  white  cap  of  even  its  male  inhabitants.  Mr. 
Browning,  being  acquainted  with  the  tragedy  of  Clairvaux 
[which  gave  origin  to  the  poem],  thought  Red  Cotton  Night- 
Cap  Country  would  be  more  appropriate  ;  and  adopted  it 
for  his  story,  as  Miss  Thackeray  had  adopted  hers  for  one 
which  she  promised  to  write." 

The  story  told  in  the  poem'  is  one  of  actual  occurrence, 


316  Red  Cotton  Night-  Cap  Country. 

the  particulars  of  which  came  to  the  knowledge  of  Brown- 
ing during  the  summer  of  1872,  a  part  of  which  he  spent  in 
that  part  of  Normandy  which  lies  south  of  the  mouth  of  the 
Seine,  in  the  province  of  Calvados.  The  chief  actor  in  this 
bit  of  real  life  was  one  Antoine  Mellerio,  a  Parisian  jew- 
eler. He  formed  an  illicit  connection  with  Anna  de  Beau- 
pre* ;  and  between  them  there  grew  up  a  very  strong  and 
persistent  affection.  He  chose  to  live  outside  Paris  rather 
than  abandon  her,  and  became  a  resident  of  St.  Aubin. 
This  illicit  relation  gradually  unfolded  itself  into  the  tra- 
gedy which  is  described  by  Browning,  ending  with  the  sui- 
cide of  Mellerio. 

In  the  poem  as  written  the  names  of  the  actors  and 
places  were  correctly  given,  but  when  the  poem  was  being 
revised  in  proof-sheets  they  were  changed  from  prudential 
reasons,  because  the  last  act  in  the  tragedy  occurred  only  a 
brief  period  prior  to  the  writing  of  the  poem. 

Browning  submitted  the  proof-sheets  of  the  poem  to  his 
friend  Lord  Coleridge,  then  the  English  Attorney-General, 
afterwards  Chief  Justice,  who  thought  that  a  case  of  libel 
might  lie  for  what  was  said,  however  improbable  such  ac- 
tion might  be.  He  accordingly  changed  the  names  to 
fictitious  ones.  It  was  the  year  following  this,  and  the  pub- 
lication of  the  poem,  that  the  appeal  against  the  judgment 
in  favor  of  the  will  of  Mellerio  was  dismissed,  and  the 
case  finally  set  at  rest  in  harmony  with  the  conclusion 
reached  by  the  poet. 

In  the  second  edition  of  her  Hand-Book  Mrs.  Orr  gives 
the  correct  names,  as  furnished  to  her  by  Browning  him- 
self. These  names  will  be  found  on  the  following  pages  of 
the  Riverside  edition  of  1889  :  — 

1.  The  Firm  Miranda  =  Mellerio  Brothers. 

2.  St.    Rambert  =  St.    Aubin.    Joyeux,  Joyous-Gard  = 
Lion,  Lionesse. 

3.  Vire  =  Caen. 

9.  St.  Rambertese  =  St.  Aubinese. 

10.  Londres  =  Douvres. 

11.  London  =  Dover.     La  Roche  =  Courcelle.    Monlieu 
=  Bernieres.    Villeneuve  =  Langrune.    Pons  =  Luc.      La 
Ravissante  =  La  Delivrande. 

12.  Raimbaux  =  Bayeux.     Morillon  =  Hugonin.    Mire- 
court  =  Bonnechose. 


Red  Cotton  Night- Cap  Country.  317 

13.  New  York  =  Madrid. 

15.  Clairvaux  =  Tailleville.  Gonthier  =  Be"ny.  Rous- 
seau =  Voltaire.  Le'once  =  Antoine. 

19.  Of  "Firm  Miranda,  London  and  New  York"  = 
"  Mellerio  Brothers  "  ;  Meller,  people  say. 

28.  Bare  Vissante  =  Dell  Yvrande.  Aldabert  =  Regno- 
bert.  Eldobert  =  Ragnobert.  Mailleville  =  Beaudoin. 
Chaumont  =  Quelen.  Vertgalant  =  Talleyrand. 

31.  Ravissantish  =  Ddlivrandish. 

35.  Clara  de  Millefleurs  =  Anna  de  Beaupre*.  Coliseum 
Street  =  Miromesnil  Street. 

38.  Steiner  =  Mayer.    Commercy  =•  Larocy.     Sierck  = 
Metz. 

39.  Muhlhausen  =  Debacker.      Carlino    Centofanti  = 
Miranda  di  Mongino. 

42.  Portugal  =  Italy. 
47.  Vaillant  =  Muriel. 

52.  Thirty-three  =  Twenty-five. 

53.  Beaumont  =  Pasquier. 
58.  Sceaux  =  Garges. 

66.  The  "guide "  recommended  to  Miranda  was  M. 
Joseph  Milsand,  who  was  always  at  St.  Aubin  during  the 
bathing  season,  and  who  was  an  old  friend  of  Browning's. 

70.  Luc  de  la  Maison  Rouge  =  Jean  de  la  Becquetiere. 
Claise  =  Vire.     Maude  =  Anne. 

71.  Dionysius  =  Eliezer.     Scholastica  ^  Elizabeth. 
74.  Twentieth  =  Thirteenth. 

83.  Fricquot  =  Picot. 

In  the  edition  of  1888  two  of  the  names  have  been 
changed  to  the  correct  ones.  On  page  15  Madrilene  was 
Turinese  in  the  first  edition.  On  page  43  Gustave  was 
Alfred  in  the  first  edition. 

The  conflict  in  the  mind  of  Antoine  Mellerio  between 
illicit  love  and  Ultramontane  Christianity  is  a  part  of  the 
actual  history  which  is  the  basis  of  the  poem.  In  a  mea- 
sure the  poem  may  be  regarded  as  a  satire  on  the  exagger- 
ated religion  then  so  much  in  vogue  in  France,  which  wor- 
shiped images,  made  pilgi'images,  and  expected  miracles. 
What  is  ascribed  to  Miranda  in  this  direction  applies  in  a 
large  degree  to  that  remarkable  movement  towards  medise- 
valism  in  religion. 


318  Red  Cotton  Night- Cap  Country. 

The  home  of  Mellerio  is  St.  Aubin,  a  small  bathing  vil- 
lage in  Calvados.  Henry  Blackburn,  in  his  Normandy 
Picturesque,  says  that  "  Nine  or  ten  minor  sea-bathing 
places  are  situated  north  of  Caen  and  Bayeux,  in  the  fol- 
lowing order  :  Lion,  Luc,  Langrune,  St.  Aubin,  Courseulles, 
Aramanches,  Aruelles,  Vurville,  and  Grandcamp,  where  ac- 
commodation is  more  or  less  limited,  and  board  and  lodging 
does  not  cost  more  than  seven  or  eight  francs  a  day  in  the 
season.  They  are  generally  spoken  of  in  the  French  guide- 
books as  '  fit  only  for  fathers  of  families.'  St.  Aubin, 
about  twelve  miles  from  Caen,  is  one  of  the  best." 

Mrs.  Katherine  S.  Macquoid's  Through  Normandy  de- 
scribes several  of  the  places  mentioned  in  the  poem.  "  Dili- 
gences go  several  times  a  day  [from  Caen]  to  Courseulles 
and  Douvres  —  where  there  is  a  very  remarkable  church, 
and  also  close  by  the  chapel  of  La  Delivrande  —  to  Ber- 
nieres,  St.  Aubin,  Lion,  Langrune,  Trouville,  Villers,  Houl- 
gate,  Beuzeval,  Cabourg-sur-Dives ;  and  many  Caennais 
go  out  to  one  or  other  of  the  smaller  of  these  watering- 
places  several  times  in  the  week  for  bathing.  .  .  . 

"  There  are  some  very  interesting  Romanesque  churches 
in  the  small  watering-places  in  the  neighborhood  of  Caen. 
At  Luc  there  is  a  nave  of  the  twelfth  century,  and  at  Lion- 
sur-Mer  a  remarkable  and  lofty  tower  of  the  same  date. 
At  Lion,  too,  there  is  a  charming  chateau  of  the  Renais- 
sance period :  it  is  very  elegant,  with  its  tall  slated  roof 
and  picturesque  tourelles,  its  bold  staircase  tower,  and  lofty 
chimneys. 

"  The  famous  pilgrimage  church  of  La  Delivrande,  at 
Douvres  [a  little  to  the  north  of  Caen],  called  Notre  Dame 
de  la  Delivrande,  first  built  in  the  twelfth  century,  has 
been  mostly  rebuilt,  but  there  is  a  little  of  the  old  work  left 
in  the  arcades  north  and  west.  A  quaint  little  book,  dated 
1642,  says  that  '  Robert  Cenalis,  Bishop  of  Avranches, 
affirms  that  the  first  chapel  of  Delivrande  was  built  by  St. 
Regnobert,  the  disciple  and  successor  of  St.  Exupere,  the 
first  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  to  which  city  he  was  also  the  apos- 
tle, being  sent  there  by  his  master,  St.  Clement,  disciple 
and  contemporary  of  St.  Peter.  But  during  the  reign  of 
Louis  I.,  King  of  France,  Norman  barbarians  and  idola- 
ters came  from  Norway,  accompanied  by  the  Danes,  and 


Red  Cotton  Night-  Cap  Country.  319 

made  a  descent  into  Gaul  in  the  year  830,  and  after  this 
made  several  other  inroads,  ravaging  all  Neustria.  They 
profaned  and  burned  all  churches.  .  .  . 

"  '  Now  the  image  of  Notre-Dame,  which  was  in  the  chapel 
of  La  Delivrande,  remained  buried  under  the  ruins  of  the 
said  chapel  about  two  hundred  years,  that  is  to  say,  from 
the  year  830  till  the  time  of  William  II.  of  this  name,  who 
began  to  govern  at  the  beginning  of  the  eleventh  century. 

"  '  There  lived  at  that  time  a  lord  named  Baldwin,  Count 
of  the  Bessin  [Caen,  Bayeux,  and  St.  Lo],  who  held  his 
barony  of  Doiivres  of  the  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  the  shepherd 
of  which  lord  perceived  that  one  of  his  rams  often  retired 
from  the  flock  and  ran  to  a  place  near  the  pasture,  there 
with  its  foot  and  its  horns  struck  and  scraped  the  earth,  and 
then,  being  tired,  lay  down  on  the  place  where  is  now  the 
image  of  the  Virgin  in  the  chapel  of  the  Delivrande.  This 
ram  never  ate,  and  yet  it  was  the  fattest  of  the  flock.  The 
count,  thinking  that  this  was  a  warning  sent  from  heaven, 
went  to  the  spot,  together  with  the  nobility,  with  a  holy 
hermit,  and  with  a  great  crowd  of  people  who  ran  thither 
from  surrounding  places. 

" '  He  commanded  that  the  trench  which  the  ram  had  be- 
gun to  make  should  be  laid  bare,  and  in  it  was  found  the 
image  of  Notre-Dame,  more  than  eight  hundred  years  old. 
This  image  was  carried  in  solemn  procession  with  universal 
joy  by  all  the  people  into  the  church  of  Doiivres,  but  was 
soon  taken  back  by  an  angel  to  the  place  where  it  had  been 
found.  Then  the  Count,  understanding  the  Divine  will, 
founded  and  caused  to  be  built  on  the  spot  the  chapel,  which 
now  exists,  and  gave  it  to  messieurs  of  Bayeux.' 

"  This  little  book  goes  on  to  narrate  the  miraculous  cures 
wrought  by  Notre-Dame  de  la  Delivrande ;  also  gives  rea- 
sons for  the  presence  of  images  in  churches  —  reasons  why 
they  are  venerable  and  how  they  are  to  be  regarded  —  rea- 
sons why  they  are  to  be  kissed  and  touched  with  devotion  — 
reasons  for  pilgrimages,  etc. 

"  La  Delivrande  is  still  a  favorite  shrine  for  pilgrimages, 
and  the  church  is  filled  with  votive  offerings  and  tablets. 

"  At  Langrune  there  is  an  interesting  church  of  the  thir- 
teenth century,  with  a  lovely  tapering  spire  ;  and  near  Ber- 
nieres  there  is  a  very  curious  sunken  road." 


320  The  Return  of  the  Druses. 

Caen  is  a  prosperous  city  in  the  western  part  of  Nor- 
mandy, the  capital  of  the  department  of  Calvados.  It  is  a 
college  town,  and  much  resembles  Oxford. 

Blackburn's  Normandy  Picturesque,  Macquoid's  Through 
Normandy,  and  CasselTs  Normandy  will  give  farther  in- 
formation as  to  the  region  described  in  the  poem.  It  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  localities  in  France.  Mrs.  Macquoid 
gives  many  pages  to  the  places  mentioned  in  the  poem,  and 
describes  the  country  with  much  minuteness. 

See  Alexander.  Also  The  Spectator,  May,  1873 ;  Penn 
Monthly,  4  :  657 ;  The  Nation,  17  :  116 ;  The  Contem- 
porary Review,  Mrs.  Orr,  22  :  87 ;  The  Athenceum,  May 
10,  1873. 

Bephan.     Asolando,  1889.     See  Appendix. 

Respectability.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics, 
1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

"  These  two  unconventional  Bohemian  lovers,"  says  Pro- 
fessor Corson,  "  strolling  together  at  night,  at  their  own 
sweet  will,  see  down  the  court  along  which  they  are  stroll- 
ing, three  lampions  flare,  which  indicate  some  big  place  or 
other  where  the  respectables  do  congregate  ;  and  the  woman 
says  to  the  companion,  with  a  humorous  sarcasm,  Put  for- 
ward your  best  foot !  that  is,  we  must  be  very  correct  pass- 
ing along  here  in  this  brilliant  light.  By  the  lovers  are 
evidently  meant  George  Sand  (the  speaker)  and  Jules 
Sandeau,  with  whom  she  lived  in  Paris,  after  she  left  her 
husband,  M.  Dudevant.  They  took  just  such  unconven- 
tional night-strolls  together,  in  the  streets  of  Paris." 

Nettleship's  Robert  Browning :  Essays  and  Thoughts, 
gives  an  interesting  interpretation. 

Return  of  the  Druses,  The.  A  Tragedy.  Written 
in  1840,  in  five  days,  and  in  manuscript  was  at  first  named 
"  Mansoor  the  Hierophant."  Bells  and  Pomegranates, 
number  four,  1843.  As  first  published  the  title  was  thus 
given  :  The  Return  of  the  Druses.  A  Tragedy,  in  Five 
Acts.  By  Robert  Browning.  Author  of  "Paracelsus." 
Time  14 — •  Poetical  Works,  1863,  in  second  volume, 
with  Tragedies  and  Other  Plays.  The  action  of  the  play 
occupies  but  one  day. 

The  Druses  are  a  tribe  or  religious  sect  who  inhabit  the 
Lebanon,  Syria,  to  the  northward  of  Palestine.  They  show 


•  The  Return  of  the  Druses.  321 

a  remarkable  amalgamation  of  races  —  Persian,  Arab, 
Koord,  arid  perhaps  Crusader,  together  with  other  admix- 
tures. Their  religion  is  also  a  combination  of  many  faiths, 
including  Mohammedanism,  Christianity,  Zoroastrianism, 
Judaism,  and  Gnosticism. 

The  Druse  religion  originated  with  Hakem  Biamr  Allah, 
or  Bemrillah,  the  sixth  Fatimite  Caliph  of  Egypt.  He  was 
a  cruel  man,  and  given  to  deeds  of  the  most  fanatical  char- 
acter. He  was  of  a  persecuting  nature,  opposed  to  intem- 
perance and  licentiousness,  and  full  of  zeal  for  religious 
reformation.  When  he  had  reigned  twenty-one  years,  in 
the  year  407  of  the  Hegira,  1016  of  the  Christian  era,  he 
announced  himself  as  the  tenth  incarnation  of  the  Spirit  of 
God.  Associated  with  him  in  the  promulgation  of  the  new 
faith  were  Hamze'  and  Darazi,  Mohammedan  mystics,  who 
are  thought  by  some  writers  to  have  been  the  real  founders 
of  the  Druse  religion.  Bemrillah  gave  up  his  old  religion, 
proclaimed  toleration,  and  began  to  disseminate  the  new 
doctrines.  Darazi  set  forth  the  Druse  doctrines  in  the 
mosque  at  Cairo,  with  all  the  power  of  the  Caliph's  sanction 
and  influence,  but  the  people  nearly  mobbed  him.  The 
faith  was  then  secretly  promulgated  in  Cairo,  and  many  be- 
came converts.  Hamze',  who  was  the  vizier  of  Bemrillah, 
zealously  labored  in  its  behalf,  and  with  success.  He  de- 
veloped the  doctrinal  and  ritualistic  features  of  the  new 
faith,  and  combined  with  its  Mohammedan  teachings  many 
doctrines  from  Moses,  the  Gospels,  and  the  Sufi  allegories. 

In  the  meantime,  Darazi  was  sent  by  Bemrillah  to  the 
Lebanon,  where  he  established  the  faith.  It  is  said  he 
gave  his  name  to  the  Druse  people,  but  another  origin  for 
the  word  is  given  by  some  writers.  He  attempted  to  act 
for  himself,  as  an  independent  prophet,  but  the  people  did 
not  favor  this,  and  he  perished  in  a  religious  quarrel. 

Bemrillah  was  bitterly  opposed  in  Cairo  by  those  who 
did  not  accept  him  as  an  incarnation  of  God,  a  doctrine 
especially  offensive  to  the  Mohammedans.  He  was  proba- 
bly secretly  assassinated  ;  at  least,  he  suddenly  disappeared, 
and  no  trace  of  him  could  be  found.  His  disappearance 
takes  a  prominent  place  in  the  Druse  conception  of  the  in- 
carnation. After  his  death  the  new  faith  made  no  headway 
in  Egypt,  and  was  soon  wholly  transferred  to  the  Lebanon. 


322  The  Return  of  the  Druses. 

There  it  has  maintained  itself  with  a  remarkable  persist- 
ence ever  since.  The  Druse  people  now  number  between 
fifty  thousand  and  one  hundred  thousand  people,  and  per- 
haps have  never  exceeded  the  latter  number.  They  are  an 
independent  nation,  speaking  the  Arabic  language,  and  have 
developed  an  extensive  literature  of  their  own,  mostly  reli- 
gious and  theological.  Almost  nothing  was  known  about 
them  until  their  quarrel  with  the  Maronites  in  1843,  which 
was  again  renewed  in  1860.  The  following  summary  of 
the  Druse  faith  is  given  by  Colonel  Churchill  in  the  volume 
which  he  devotes  to  that  people  :  — 

"  To  acknowledge  one  only  God,  without  endeavoring  to 
penetrate  the  nature  of  his  being  and  attributes,  (indeed  the 
Druses  are  so  far  from  admitting  attributes  in  God,  that  his 
Intelligence,  his  Will,  his  Justice,  his  Word,  are,  in  their 
system,  created  beings  and  ministers  of  God,  his  first  pro- 
ductions ;)  to  confess  that  he  can  neither  be  comprehended 
by  the  senses  nor  described  by  language  ;  to  believe  that  the 
Divinity  has  made  itself  manifest  to  men,  at  different 
epochs,  in  the  human  form,  without  partaking  of  human 
weakness  and  frailty  ;  and  that  the  Divinity  appeared  for 
the  last  time,  in  the  fifth  century  of  the  Hegira  of  Moham- 
med, under  the  figure  of  Hakem-biamar  Allah,  and  that, 
after  that,  no  other  manifestation  is  to  be  expected  ;  that 
Hakem  disappeared  in  the  year  411  of  the  Hegira,  or  1021 
A.  D.,  to  prove  the  faith  of  his  servants,  and  to  give  occa- 
sion for  the  falling  off  of  apostates,  who  had  only  embraced 
the  true  religion  from  worldly  motives  ;  that  he  will  re- 
appear in  due  time  in  glory  and  majesty,  to  triumph  over  all 
his  enemies,  to  extend  his  empire  over  the  whole  earth,  and 
to  give  the  kingdom  to  his  faithful  worshipers. 

"  To  believe  the  Universal  Intelligence  is  the  first  of 
God's  creations,  —  the  only  direct  and  immediate  produc- 
tion of  his  Almighty  power ;  that  he  has  appeared  on  earth 
simultaneously  with  each  manifestation  of  the  Divinity ; 
and  that,  lastly,  in  the  time  of  Hakem,  he  took  the  figure 
of  Hamze*,  the  son  of  Ali,  the  son  of  Ahmed  ;  that  it  is  by 
his  ministry  and  agency  that  all  things  have  been  produced  ; 
that  he  alone  possesses  the  knowledge  of  all  truths  ;  that  he 
is  the  first  Minister  of  the  true  religion  ;  that  it  is  he  who 
communicates,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  other  ministers,  and 


The  Return  of  the  Druses.  323 

to  simple  believers,  but  in  different  degrees  and  proportions, 
the  knowledge  and  the  grace  which  he  receives  immediately 
from  the  Divinity,  and  of  which  he  is  the  sole  medium ; 
that  he  alone  has  direct  access  to  the  Deity,  standing  as 
Mediator  between  the  Supreme  Being  and  the  great  family 
of  mankind. 

"  To  acknowledge  that  Hamze  it  is  to  whom  Hakem  will 
intrust  his  sword,  in  the  last  day,  to  smite  all  his  adversa- 
ries, to  make  his  religion  triumphant,  and  to  distribute  re- 
wards and  punishments  to  every  one  according  to  his 
deserts ;  to  know  the  other  ministers  of  the  Unitarian  reli- 
gion, and  the  rank  and  offices  which  belong  to  each  of  them 
individually,  and  to  render  them  that  obedience  and  sub- 
mission which  is  due. 

"  To  confess  that  all  souls  were  created  by  the  Universal 
Intelligence  ;  that  the  number  of  human  beings  is  always 
the  same,  —  neither  increasing  nor  decreasing ;  but  that 
souls  pass  from  one  body  to  another  ;  that  they  rise  and  be- 
come perfected  in  excellence,  or  deteriorate  and  become 
lost  and  degraded,  according  to  their  love  and  attachment 
to  the  truth,  or  their  neglect  and  disregard  of  it ;  to  prac- 
tice the  seven  commandments  which  the  religion  of  Hamze' 
imposes  on  his  followers,  and 'more  especially  those  which  in- 
culcate a  strict  regard  to  truth  in  words,  charity  towards  the 
brethren,  entire  renunciation  of  all  former  modes  of  belief, 
and  complete  and  unreserved  submission  to  the  will  of  God. 

"  And,  finally,  to  confess  that  all  preceding  religions  what- 
ever were  but  types,  more  or  less  complete,  of  the  only  true 
religion,  —  all  their  legal  and  ceremonial  precepts  and  in- 
junctions, but  allegories  ;  and  that  the  revelation  of  the 
true  religion  necessarily  induces  the  complete  abolition  of 
all  anterior  ones.  Such  is  an  abridgment  of  the  principal 
points  of  belief  laid  down  in  the  religion  of  the  Druses,  of 
which  Hamze'  is  the  founder,  and  the  followers  of  which 
are  called  Unitarians." 

The  doctrine  of  incarnation  is  a  cardinal  one  with  the 
Druses,  and  they  teach  that  ten  such  manifestations  have 
appeared.  These  have  been  AH,  Albar,  Alya,  Moill,  Kaim, 
Moezz,  Aziz,  Abou  Zechariah,  Mansour,  and  Hakem ;  but 
it  is  Hakem  who  has  taken  all  these  forms.  At  the  end 
of  things  he  will  come  again  to  conquer  the  world  and  to 


324  The  Return  of  the  Druses. 

establish  the  Druse  faith.  "  These  personifications,"  says 
Churchill,  "  are  called  apparitions,  joined  to  the  epithets 
Divine,  Human,  Royal,  Celestial,  and  Sublime ;  for  in  the 
style  of  the  Druses,  the  kingdom  is  the  sublime  doctrine  of 
the  Unitarian  religion,  the  same  as  in  the  Gospel  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  the  doctrine  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  chil- 
dren of  the  kingdom  the  disciples  of  that  doctrine.  The 
human  figures  under  which  the  Lord  appeared  are  some- 
times called  '  places  and  envelopes,'  but  it  is  essential  to  ob- 
serve, that  these  figures  must  not  be  confounded  with  the 
Humanity  of  the  Lord,  which  amidst  all  these  changes  is 
always  the  same,  and  inseparably  participates  in  all  the 
majesty  and  immutability  of  the  Divinity. 

"  The  idea  of  the  Druses  is,  that  the  Lord's  Humanity  is 
coeval  with  his  Divinity  ;  and  though  for  a  time  it  was  clothed 
upon  with  the  flesh,  its  incomprehensible  and  ineffable  es- 
sence remained  ever  the  same  ;  and  thus,  if  a  Druse  Ockal 
be  asked  whether  he  believes  that  God  became  flesh,  he 
scouts  the  idea  as  impious  and  absurd,  because  in  his  mind 
he  draws  this  nice  distinction,  that  God  did  not  become 
flesh,  but  assumed  the  veil  of  the  flesh,  in  the  same  way  as 
a  man  putting  on  a  robe  does  not  become  the  robe." 

Under  the  name  of  "  Day  "of  Resurrection  "  the  Druses 
teach  that  a  time  will  come  when  their  faith  will  be  publicly 
manifested  in  the  sight  of  all  men,  that  all  apostates  and 
unbelievers  will  be  punished,  and  that  they  will  enter  into 
glorious  reward.  Hakem  will  then  enter  upon  a  period  of 
triumph,  when  he  will  reign  on  the  earth,  and  the  Saints 
will  share  in  his  kingdom.  It  is  thought  he  will  first  appear 
in  China,  but  his  triumph  will  be  complete  throughout  the 
earth.  In  this  new  order  of  things  Hakem  will  appear  as 
the  Lord  God,  and  Hamze'  will  be  manifested  as  his  Mes- 
siah or  Word.  A  Druse  book,  as  quoted  by  Churchill,  thus 
describes  the  coming  of  Hakem :  — 

"  As  for  us,  we  belong  to  the  Lord,  we  put  all  our  trust 
in  him,  we  keep  ourselves  firmly  and  immovably  attached 
to  the  Messiah  (Hamze'),  to  be  protected  against  the  terrors 
of  that  day,  which  the  tongue  must  fail  to  describe  ;  of  that 
day  when  our  hearts  and  our  eyes  will  receive  their  perfect 
recompense  ;  when  our  Lord  Hakem  will  reveal  himself  to 
his  creatures,  in  a  creature's  form  ;  of  that  day  when  all 


The  Return  of  the  Druses.  325 

spirits  and  souls  will  tremble  for  fear,  and  when  our  Lord 
will  show  himself  in  his  Glorified  Humanity  in  great  glory, 
surrounded  by  an  innumerable  company  of  angels  and  arch- 
angels, and  will  cause  his  Unity  to  be  adored.  All  the  ends 
of  the  earth  shall  be  submitted  to  him ;  all  heads  shall  bow 
in  humble  submission  before  him ;  all  created  substances 
shall  confess  that  he  is  Lord  God,  most  holy,  unto  whom 
belong  Might,  Majesty  and  Dominion,  for  ever  and  ever ! 
Then  a  voice  shall  cry,  To  whom  belongs  the  kingdom  ? 
and  it  shall  be  answered,  It  belongs  to  Hakem,  who  can 
neither  slumber  nor  sleep.  The  balances  will  be  set,  all 
actions  shall  be  judged,  all  resources  shall  be  taken  away 
from  liars  and  impostors ;  the  evil  and  shameful  things 
which  were  hidden  shall  be  brought  to  light  and  exposed 
before  all  eyes,  and  the  true  Messiah  will  render  to  each 
soul  the  reward  of  its  deeds.  The  upright  and  just  will 
enter  into  joy  and  felicity,  as  the  price  of  their  faith. 
Then  unbelievers  will  repent  of  the  calumnies  which  they 
have  uttered  against  the  Saints.  For  the  Almighty  power 
shall  have  been  made  visible  ;  Truth  shall  have  been  mani- 
fested ;  discernment  effected  amongst  men ;  the  days  of 
trial  and  tribulation  shall  have  ended ;  and  those  who  be- 
lieved shall  hasten  to  enter  into  the  Sanctuary  of  everlast- 
ing joy,  peace,  and  felicity." 

None  of  the  works  consulted  indicate  that  the  Druses 
were  ever  at  any  time  located  on  an  islet  of  the  southern 
Sporades,  or  that  the  faith  has  ever  been  accepted  outside 
of  Egypt,  Arabia,  and  Syria.  The  fierce  conflict  in  1843 
between  the  Druses  and  the  Maronites  doubtless  led  to  the 
writing  of  this  drama. 

The  following  works  are  authorities  on  the  Druses  and 
their  religion :  Druses  of  the  Lebanon,  G.  W.  Chasseaud ; 
Recollections  of  the  Druses  of  Lebanon,  and  Notes  on  their 
Religion,  H.  H.  M.  Herbert,  Earl  of  Caernarvon ;  Mount 
Lebanon  :  a  Ten  Years'  Residence,  Colonel  C.  H.  Church- 
ill; Researches  into  the  Religions  of  Syria,  Rev.  John 
Wortabet ;  La  Theoganie  des  Druses,  H.  Guys ;  Expose  de 
la  Religion  des  Druses,  Silvestre  de  Sacy.  It  is  quite 
probable  Browning  drew  from  the  last  work  for  his  know- 
ledge of  the  Druses,  as  it  was  published  in  1828.  The  best 
and  fullest  exposition  in  English  of  the  religion  of  the 


326         Reverie.  —  Tlie  Ring  and  the  Book. 

Druses  is  contained  in  the  second  volume  of  Colonel 
Churchill's  work,  which  is  wholly  devoted  to  their  doctrines, 
rites,  and  morality.  A  more  recent  work  is  that  by  the 
Earl  of  Caernarvon. 

See  Alexander.  In  his  Stories  from  Robert  Browning, 
Mr.  F.  M.  Holland  gives  a  brief  account  of  the  Druses,  and 
turns  the  drama  into  a  prose  story.  In  Miss  Burt's  Brown- 
ing's Women  Anael  is  discussed  in  the  chapter  headed 
"  The  Picture  of  Faith." 

Reverie.    Asolando,  1889. 

King  and  the  Book,  The.  Published  in  London  by 
Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  with  the  author's  name  given  as 
"  Robert  Browning,  M.  A.,  Honorary  Fellow  of  Balliol 
College,  Oxford."  Vol.  I.,  November,  1868;  Vol.  II., 
December,  1868;  Vol.  III.,  January,  1869;  Vol.  IV., 
February,  1869.  Each  volume  contained  three  books. 

A  book  found  in  Florence  was  the  basis  of  this  poem. 
From  personal  information  furnished  by  the  poet,  and  from 
a  careful  study  of  the  book  from  which  Browning  drew  his 
information,  Mrs.  Orr  wrote  her  account  of  the  murder 
trial  which  this  poem  describes.  Her  Hand-Book  must  be 
drawn  upon  because  of  its  accuracy,  and  because  it  gives 
details  important  to  an  understanding  of  the  poem,  and  not 
elsewhere  obtainable. 

"  Mr.  Browning  was  strolling  one  day  through  a  square 
in  Florence,  the  Piazza  San  Lorenzo,  which  is  a  standing 
market  for  old  clothes,  old  furniture,  and  old  curiosities  of 
every  kind,  when  a  parchment-covered  book  attracted  his 
eye,  from  amidst  the  artistic  or  nondescript  rubbish  of  one 
of  the  stalls.  It  was  the  record  of  a  murder  which  had 
taken  place  in  Rome,  and  bore  inside  it  an  inscription  [in 
Latin]  which  Mr.  Browning  thus  transcribes  [page  3]  :  — 

'  A  Roman  Murder-case : 
Position  of  the  entire  criminal  cause 
Of  Guido  Franceschini,  nobleman, 
With  certain  Fonr  the  cut-throats  in  his  pay, 
Tried,  all  five,  and  found  guilty  and  put  to  death 
By  heading  or  hanging  as  befitted  ranks, 
At  Rome  on  February  Twenty-Two, 
Since  our  salvation  Sixteen  Ninety-Eight : 
Wherein  it  is  disputed  if,  and  when, 
Husbands  may  kill  adulterous  wives,  yet  'scape 
The  customary  forfeit.' 


The  Ring  and  the  Boole.  327 

"  The  book  proved,  on  examination,  to  contain  the  whole 
history  of  the  case,  as  carried  on  in  writing,  after  the  fashion 
of  those  days  :  pleadings  and  counter-pleadings,  the  depo- 
sitions of  defendants  and  witnesses  ;  manuscript  letters  an- 
nouncing the  execution  of  the  murderer,  and  the  '  instru- 
ment of  the  Definitive  Sentence '  which  established  the 
perfect  innocence  of  the  murdered  wife :  these  various 
documents  having  been  collected  and  bound  together  by 
some  person  interested  in  the  trial,  possibly  the  very  Cen- 
cini,  friend  of  the  Franceschini  family,  to  whom  the  manu- 
script letters  are  addressed.  Mr.  Browning  bought  the 
whole  for  the  value  of  eightpence,  and  it  became  the  raw 
material  of  what  appeared  four  years  later  as  The  Ring 
and  the  Book. 

"  This  name  is  explained  as  follows  :  The  stoiy  of  the 
Franceschini  case,  as  Mr.  Browning  relates  it,  forms  a  circle 
of  evidence  to  its  one  central  truth ;  and  this  circle  was 
constructed  in  the  manner  in  which  the  worker  in  Etruscan 
gold  prepares  the  ornamental  circlet  which  will  be  worn  as 
a  ring.  The  pure  metal  is  too  soft  to  bear  hammer  or  file  ; 
it  must  be  mixed  with  alloy  to  gain  the  necessary  power  of 
resistance.  The  ring  once  formed  and  embossed,  the  alloy 
is  disengaged,  and  a  pure  gold  ornament  remains.  Mr. 
Browning's  material  was  also  inadequate  to  his  purpose, 
though  from  a  different  cause.  It  was  too  hard.  It  was 
'  pure  crude  fact,'  secreted  from  the  fluid  being  of  the  men 
and  women  whose  experience  it  had  formed.  In  its  existing 
state  it  would  have  broken  up  under  the  artistic  attempt 
to  weld  and  round  it.  He  supplied  an  alloy,  the  alloy  of 
fancy,  or  —  as  he  also  calls  it  —  of  one  fact  more  :  this  fact 
being  the  echo  of  those  past  existences  awakened  within  his 
own.  He  breathed  into  the  dead  record  the  breath  of  his 
own  life ;  and  when  his  ring  of  evidence  had  re-formed, 
first  in  elastic  then  in  solid  strength,  here  delicately  incised, 
there  broadly  stamped  with  human  thought  and  passion,  he 
could  cast  fancy  aside,  and  bid  his  readers  recognize  in 
what  he  set  before  them  unadulterated  human  truth. 

"  All  this  was  not  effected  at  once.  The  separate  scenes 
of  the  Franceschini  tragedy  .sprang  to  life  in  Mr.  Brown- 
ing's imagination  within  a  few  hours  of  his  reading  the  book. 
He  saw  them  reenacted  from  his  terrace  at  Casa  Guidi  on 


328  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

a  sultry  summer  night  —  every  place  and  person  projected, 
as  it  seemed,  against  the  thundery  sky  —  but  his  mind  did 
not  yet  weave  them  into  a  whole.  The  drama  lay  by  him 
and  in  him  till  the  unconscious  inspiration  was  complete  ; 
and  then,  one  day  in  London,  he  felt  what  he  thus  de- 
scribes [page  18]  :  — 

'  A  spirit  laughs  and  leaps  through  every  limb, 
And  lights  my  eye,  and  lifts  me  by  the  hair, 
Letting  me  have  my  will  again  with  these,' 

and  The  Ring  and  the  Book  was  born.  All  this  is  told  in 
an  introductory  chapter,  which  bears  the  title  of  the  whole 
work ;  and  here  also  Mr.  Browning  reviews  those  broad 
facts  of  the  Franceschini  case  which  are  beyond  dispute, 
and  which  constitute,  so  far  as  they  go,  the  crude  metal  of 
his  ring.  He  has  worked  into  this  almost  every  incident 
which  the  chronicle  supplies,  and  his  book  requires  no 
supplement ;  but  the  fragmentary  view  of  its  contents  which 
I  am  reduced  to  giving  can  only  be  held  together  by  a  pre- 
vious outline  of  the  story. 

"  There  lived  in  Rome  in  1679  Pietro  and  Violante  Com- 
parini,  an  elderly  couple  of  the  middle  class,  fond  of  show 
and  good  living,  and  who  in  spite  of  a  fair  income  had  run 
considerably  into  debt.  They  were,  indeed,  at  the  period 
in  question  in  receipt  of  a  papal  bounty,  employed  in  the 
relief  of  the  needy  who  did  not  like  to  beg.  Creditors  were 
pressing,  and  only  one  expedient  suggested  itself:  they 
must  have  a  child  ;  and  thus  enable  themselves  to  draw  on 
their  capital,  now  tied  up  for  the  benefit  of  an  unknown 
heir-at-law.  The  wife  conceived  this  plan,  and  also  carried 
it  out  without  taking  her  husband  into  her  confidence.  She 
secured  beforehand  the  infant  of  a  poor  and  not  very  repu- 
table woman,  announced  her  expectation,  half  miraculous, 
at  her  past  fifty  years,  and  became  to  all  appearance  the 
mother  of  a  girl,  the  Francesca  Pompilia  of  the  story. 

"  When  Pompilia  had  reached  the  age  of  thirteen,  there 
was  also  in  Rome  Count  Guido  Franceschini,  an  impover- 
ished nobleman  of  Arezzo,  and  the  elder  of  three  brothers, 
of  whom  the  second,  Abate  Paolo,  and  the  third,  Canon 
Girolamo,  also  play  some  part  in  the  story.  Count  Guido 
himself  belonged  to  the  minor  ranks  of  the  priesthood  and 
had  spent  his  best  years  in  seeking  preferment  in  it.  Pre- 


The  Ring  and  the  Boole.  329 

ferment  had  not  come,  and  the  only  means  of  building  up 
the  family  fortunes  in  his  own  person  was  now  a  moneyed 
wife.  He  was  poor,  fifty  years  old,  and  personally  unat- 
tractive. A  contemporary  chronicle  describes  him  as  short, 
thin,  and  pale,  and  with  a  projecting  nose.  He  had  nothing 
to  offer  but  his  rank ;  but  in  the  case  of  a  very  obscure 
heiress,  this  might  suffice,  and  such  a  one  seemed  to  present 
herself  in  Pompilia  Comparini.  He  heard  of  her  at  the 
local  centre  of  gossip,  the  barber's  shop  ;  received  an  exag- 
gerated estimate  of  her  dowry ;  and  made  proposals  for  her 
hand  ;  being  supported  in  his  suit  by  the  Abate  Paul.  They 
did  not  on  their  side  understate  the  advantages  of  the  con- 
nection. They  are,  indeed,  said  to  have  given  as  their 
yearly  income  a  sum  exceeding  their  capital,  and  Violante 
was  soon  dazzled  into  consenting  to  it.  Old  Pietro  was 
more  wary.  He  made  inquiries  as  to  the  state  of  the  Count's 
fortune  and  declined,  under  plea  of  his  daughter's  extreme 
youth,  to  think  of  him  as  a  son-in-law. 

"  Violante  pretended  submission,  secretly  led  Pompilia  to 
a  church,  the  very  church  of  San  Lorenzo  in  Lucina  where 
four  years  later  the  murdered  bodies  of  all  three  were  to  be 
displayed,  and  brought  her  back  as  Count  Guido's  wife. 
Pietro  could  only  accept  the  accomplished  fact ;  and  he  so 
far  resigned  himself  to  it,  that  he  paid  down  an  installment 
of  his  daughter's  dowry,  and  made  up  the  deficiency  by 
transferring  to  the  newly  married  couple  all  that  he  actually 
possessed.  This  left  him  no  choice  but  to  live  under  their 
roof,  and  the  four  removed  together  to  the  Franceschini 
abode  at  Arezzo.  The  arrangement  proved  disastrous,  and 
at  the  end  of  a  few  months  Pietro  and  Violante  were  glad 
to  return  to  Rome,  though  with  empty  pockets,  and  on 
money  lent  them  for  the  journey  by  their  son-in-law. 

"  We  have  conflicting  testimony  as  to  the  cause  of  this 
rupture.  The  Governor  of  Arezzo,  writing  to  the  Abate 
Paul  in  Rome,  lays  all  the  blame  of  it  on  the  Comparini, 
whom  he  taxes  with  vulgar  and  aggressive  behavior ;  and 
Mr.  Browning  readily  admits  that  at  the  beginning  there 
may  have  been  faults  on  their  side.  But  popular  judgment 
as  well  as  the  balance  of  evidence  were  in  favor  of  the  op- 
posite view  ;  and  curious  details  are  given  by  Pompilia  and 
by  a  servant  of  the  family,  a  sworn  witness  on  Pompilia' 8 


330  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

trial,  of  the  petty  cruelties  and  privations  to  which  both 
parents  and  child  were  subjected. 

"  So  much,  at  all  events,  was  clear ;  Violante's  sin  had 
overtaken  her ;  and  it  now  occurred  to  her,  apparently  for 
the  first  time,  to  cast  off  its  burden  by  confession.  The 
moment  was  propitious,  for  the  pope  had  proclaimed  a 
jubilee  in  honor  of  his  eightieth  year,  and  absolution  was  to 
be  had  for  the  asking.  But  the  Church  in  this  case  made 
conditions.  Absolution  must  be  preceded  by  atonement. 
Violante  must  restore  to  her  legal  heirs  that  of  which  her 
pretended  motherhood  had  defrauded  them.  The  first  step 
towards  this  was  to  reveal  the  fraud  to  her  husband  ;  and 
Pietro  lost  no  time  in  making  use  of  the  revelation.  He 
repudiated  Pompilia,  and  with  her  all  claims  on  her  hus- 
band's part.  The  case  was  carried  into  court.  The  Court 
decreed  a  compromise.  Pietro  appealed  from  the  decree, 
and  the  question  remained  unsettled. 

"  The  chief  sufferer  by  these  proceedings  was  Pompilia 
herself.  She  already  had  reason  to  dread  her  husband  as  a 
tyrant —  he  to  dislike  her  as  a  victim  ;  and  his  discovery  of 
her  base  birth,  with  the  threatened  loss  of  the  greater  part 
of  her  dowry,  could  only  result  with  such  a  man  in  in- 
creased aversion  towards  her.  From  this  moment  his  one 
aim  seems  to  have  been  to  get  rid  of  his  wife,  but  in  such  a 
manner  as  not  to  forfeit  any  pecuniary  advantage  he  might 
still  derive  from  their  union.  This  could  only  be  done  by 
convicting  her  of  infidelity  ;  and  he  attacked  her  so  furi- 
ously, and  so  persistently,  on  the  subject  of  a  certain  Canon 
Giuseppe  Caponsacchi,  whom  she  barely  knew,  but  whose 
attentions  he  declared  her  to  have  challenged,  that  at  last 
she  fled  from  Arezzo,  with  this  very  man. 

"  She  had  appealed  for  protection  against  her  husband's 
violence  to  the  Archbishop  and  to  the  Governor.  She  had 
striven  to  enlist  the  aid  of  his  brother-in-law,  Conti.  She 
had  implored  a  priest  in  confession  to  write  for  her  to  her 
parents,  and  induce  them  to  fetch  her  away.  But  the 
whole  town  was  in  the  interest  of  the  Franceschini,  or  in 
dread  of  them.  Her  prayers  were  useless,  and  Caponsac- 
chi, whom  she  had  heard  of  as  a  '  resolute  man,'  appeared 
her  last  resource.  He  was,  as  she  knew,  contemplating  a 
journey  to  Rome ;  an  opportunity  presented  itself  for  speak- 


The  Ring  and  the  Book.  331 

ing  to  him  from  her  window,  or  her  balcony  ;  and  she  per- 
suaded him,  though  not  without  difficulty,  to  assist  her  es- 
cape, and  conduct  her  to  her  old  home.  On  a  given  night 
she  slipped  away  from  her  husband's  side,  and  joined  the 
Canon  where  he  awaited  her  with  a  carriage.  They  trav- 
eled day  and  night  till  they  reached  Castelnuovo,  a  village 
within  four  hours  of  the  journey's  end.  There  they  were 
compelled  to  rest,  and  there  also  the  husband  overtook 
them.  They  were  not  together  at  the  moment ;  but  the 
fact  of  the  elopement  was  patent ;  and  if  Franceschini  had 
killed  his  wife  there,  in  the  supposed  excitement  of  the  dis- 
covery, the  law  might  have  dealt  leniently  with  him  ;  but  it 
suited  him  best  for  the  time  being  to  let  her  live.  He  pro- 
cured the  arrest  of  the  fugitives,  and  after  a  short  confine- 
ment on  the  spot,  they  were  conveyed  to  the  New  Prisons  in 
Rome  (Carceri  Nuove)  and  tried  on  the  charge  of  adultery. 

"  It  is  impossible  not  to  believe  that  Count  Guido  had 
been  working  towards  this  end.  Pompilia's  verbal  com- 
munications with  Caponsacchi  had  been  supplemented  by 
letters,  now  brought  to  him  in  her  name,  now  thrown  or  let 
down  from  her  window  as  he  passed  the  house.  They  were 
written,  as  he  said,  on  the  subject  of  the  flight,  and  as  he 
also  said,  he  burned  them  as  soon  as  read,  not  doubting 
their  authenticity.  But  Pompilia  declared,  on  examination, 
that  she  could  neither  write  nor  read  ;  and  setting  aside  all 
presumption  of  her  veracity,  this  was  more  than  probable. 
The  writer  of  the  letters  must,  therefore,  have  been  the 
Count,  or  some  one  employed  by  him  for  the  purpose.  He 
now  completed  the  intrigue  by  producing  eighteen  or  twenty 
more  of  a  very  incriminating  character  which  he  declared 
to  have  been  left  by  the  prisoners  at  Castelnuovo  ;  and  these 
were  not  only  disclaimed  with  every  appearance  of  sincerity 
by  both  the  persons  accused,  but  bore  the  marks  of  forgery 
within  themselves. 

"  Pompilia  and  Caponsacchi  answered  all  the  questions 
addressed  to  them  simply  and  firmly  ;  and  though  their 
statements  did  not  always  coincide,  these  were  calculated  on 
the  whole  to  create  a  moral  conviction  of  their  innocence  ; 
the  facts  on  which  they  disagreed  being  of  little  weight. 
But  moral  conviction  was  not  legal  proof ;  the  question  of 
false  testimony  does  not  seem  to  have  been  even  raised ; 


332  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

and  the  Court  found  itself  in  a  dilemma,  which  it  acknow- 
ledged in  the  following  way :  it  was  decreed  that  for  his 
complicity  in  '  the  flight  and  deviation  of  Francesca  Com- 
parini,'  and  too  great  intimacy  with  her,  Caponsacchi 
should  be  banished  for  three  years  to  Civita  Vecchia ;  and 
that  Pompilia,  on  her  side,  should  be  relegated,  for  the  time 
being,  to  a  convent.  That  is  to  say  :  the  prisoners  were 
pronounced  guilty ;  and  a  merely  nominal  punishment  was 
inflicted  upon  them. 

"  The  records  of  this  trial  contain  almost  everything  of 
biographical  or  even  dramatic  interest  in  the  original  book. 
They  are,  so  far  as  they  go,  the  complete  histoiy  of  the 
case ;  and  the  result  of  the  trial,  ambiguous  as  it  was,  sup- 
plied the  only  argument  on  which  an  even  formal  defense 
of  the  subsequent  murder  could  be  based.  The  substance 
of  these  records  appears  in  full  in  Mr.  Browning's  work  ; 
and  his  readers  can  judge  for  themselves  whether  the  letters 
which  were  intended  to  substantiate  Pompilia's  guilt  could, 
even  if  she  had  possessed  the  power  of  writing,  have  been 
written  by  a  woman  so  young  and  so  uncultured  as  herself. 
They  will  also  see  that  the  Count's  plot  against  his  wife  was 
still  more  deeply  laid  than  the  above-mentioned  circum- 
stances attest. 

"  Count  Guido  was  of  course  not  satisfied.  He  wanted  a 
divorce ;  and  he  continued  to  sue  for  it  by  means  of  his 
brother,  the  Abate  Paul,  then  residing  in  Rome  ;  but  before 
long  he  received  news  which  was  destined  to  change  his 
plans.  Pompilia  was  about  to  become  a  mother ;  and  in 
consideration  of  her  state,  she  had  been  removed  from  the 
convent  to  her  paternal  home,  where  she  was  still  to  be 
ostensibly  a  prisoner.  The  Comparini  then  occupied  a 
small  villa  outside  one  of  the  city  gates.  A  few  months 
later,  in  this  secluded  spot,  the  Countess  Franceschini  gave 
birth  to  a  son,  whom  her  parents  lost  no  time  in  conveying 
to  a  place  of  concealment  and  safety.  The  murder  took 
place  a  fortnight  after  this  event.  I  give  the  rest  of  the 
story  in  an  almost  literal  translation  from  a  contemporary 
narrative  which  was  published  immediately  after  the  Count's 
execution,  in  the  form  of  a  pamphlet  —  the  then  current 
substitute  for  a  newspaper.  [This  pamphlet  has  supplied 
Mr.  Browning  with  some  of  his  most  curious  facts.  It  fell 
into  his  hands  in  London.] 


The  Ring  and  the  Book.  333 

"  '  Being  oppressed  by  various  feelings,  and  stimulated  to 
revenge,  now  by  honor,  now  by  self-interest,  yielding  to 
his  wicked  thoughts,  he  [Count  Guido]  devised  a  plan  for 
killing  his  wife  and  her  nominal  parents  ;  and  having  en- 
listed in  his  enterprise  four  other  ruffians,  laborers  on  his 
property,  started  with  them  from  Arezzo,  and  on  Christmas- 
eve  arrived  in  Rome,  and  took  up  his  abode  at  Ponte  Milvio, 
where  there  was  a  villa  belonging  to  his  brother,  and  where 
he  concealed  himself  with  his  followers  till  the  fitting 
moment  for  the  execution  of  his  design  had  arrived.  Hav- 
ing therefore  watched  from  thence  all  the  movements  of  the 
Comparini  family,  he  proceeded  on  Thursday,  the  2nd  of 
January,  at  one  o'clock  of  the  night  [the  first  hour  after 
sunset],  with  his  companions  to  the  Comparinis'  house  ;  and 
having  left  Biagio  Agostinelli  and  Domenico  Gambasini  at 
the  gate,  he  instructed  one  of  the  others  to  knock  at  the 
house-door,  which  was  opened  to  him  on  his  declaring  that 
he  brought  a  letter  from  Canon  Caponsacchi  at  Civita 
Vecchia.  The  wicked  Franceschini,  supported  by  two 
other  of  his  assassins,  instantly  threw  himself  on  Violante 
Comparini,  who  had  opened  the  door,  and  flung  her  dead 
upon  the  ground.  Pompilia,  in  this  extremity,  extinguished 
the  light,  thinking  thus  to  elude  her  assassins,  and  made  for 
the  door  of  a  neighboring  blacksmith,  crying  for  help  ;  see- 
ing Franceschini  provided  with  a  lantern,  she  ran  and  hid 
herself  under  the  bed,  but  being  dragged  from  under  it,  the 
unhappy  woman  was  barbarously  put  to  death  by  twenty- 
two  wounds  from  the  hand  of  her  husband,  who,  not  con- 
tent with  this,  dragged  her  to  the  feet  of  Comparini,  who, 
being  similarly  wounded  by  another  of  the  assassins,  was 
crying,  "  Confession." 

" '  At  the  noise  of  this  horrible  massacre  people  rushed  to 
the  spot ;  but  the  villains  succeeded  in  flying,  leaving  behind, 
however,  in  their  haste,  one  his  cloak,  and  Franceschini  his 
cap,  which  was  the  means  of  betraying  them.  The  unfor- 
tunate Francesca  Pompilia,  in  spite  of  all  the  wounds  with 
which  she  had  been  mangled,  having  implored  of  the  Holy 
Virgin  the  grace  of  being  allowed  to  confess,  obtained  it, 
since  she  was  able  to  survive  for  a  short  time  and  describe 
the  horrible  attack.  She  also  related  that  after  the  deed 
her  husband  asked  the  assassin  who  had  helped  him  to  uuir- 


334  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

der  her  if  she  were  really  dead  ;  and  being  assured  that 
she  was,  quickly  rejoined,  let  us  lose  no  time,  but  return  to 
the  vineyard  [villa]  ;  and  so  they  escaped.  Meanwhile  the 
police  [Forza]  having  been  called,  it  arrived  with  its  chief 
officer  [Bargello],  and  a  confessor  was  soon  procured,  to- 
gether with  a  surgeon,  who  devoted  himself  to  the  treat- 
ment of  the  unfortunate  girl. 

"  '  Monsignore^  the  Governor,  being  informed  of  the 
event,  immediately  despatched  Captain  Patrizj  to  arrest  the 
culprits ;  but  on  reaching  the  vineyard  the  police  officers 
discovered  that  they  were  no  longer  there,  but  had  gone 
towards  the  high  road  an  hour  before.  Patrizj  pursued  his 
journey  without  rest,  and  having  arrived  at  the  inn,  was  told 
by  the  landlord  that  Franceschini  had  insisted  upon  obtain- 
ing horses,  which  were  refused  to  him  because  he  was  not 
supplied  with  the  necessary  order ;  and  had  proceeded  there- 
fore on  foot  with  his  companions  towards  Baccano.  Con- 
tinuing his  march,  and  taking  the  necessary  precautions,  he 
approached  the  Merluzza  inn,  and  there  discovered  the 
assassins,  who  were  speedily  arrested,  their  knives  still 
stained  with  blood,  a  hundred  and  fifty  scudi  in  coin  being 
also  found  on  Franceschini's  person.  The  arrest,  however, 
cost  Patrizj  his  life,  for  he  had  heated  himself  too  mnch, 
and  having  received  a  slight  wound,  died  in  a  few  days. 

"  '  The  knife  of  Franceschini  was  on  the  Genoese  pattern, 
and  triangular ;  and  was  notched  at  the  edge,  so  that  it  could 
not  be  withdrawn  from  the  wounded  flesh  without  lacerating 
it  in  such  a  manner  as  to  render  the  wound  incurable. 

"  '  The  criminals  being  taken  to  Ponte  Milvio,  they  went 
through  a  first  examination  at  the  inn  there  at  the  hands  of 
the  notaries  and  judges  sent  thither  for  the  purpose,  and 
the  chief  points  of  a  confession  were  obtained  from  them. 

" '  When  the  capture  of  the  delinquents  was  known  in 
Rome,  a  multitude  of  the  people  hastened  to  see  them  as 
they  were  conveyed  bound  on  horses  into  the  city.  It  is  re- 
lated that  Franceschini  having  asked  one  of  the  police  officers 
in  the  course  of  the  journey  however  the  crime  had  been 
discovered,  and  being  told  that  it  had  been  revealed  by  his 
wife,  whom  they  had  found  still  living,  was  almost  stupe- 
fied by  the  intelligence.  Towards  twenty-three  o'clock  [the 
last  hour  before  sunset]  they  arrived  at  the  prisons.  A  cer- 


The  Ring  and  the  Book.  335 

tain  Francesco  Pasquini,  of  Citta  di  Castello,  and  Alessan- 
dro  Baldeschi,  of  the  city  itself  [probably  Rome],  both 
twenty-two  years  of  age,  were  the  assistants  of  Guido 
Franceschini  in  the  murder  of  the  Comparini ;  and  Gam- 
basini  and  Agostinelli  were  those  who  stood  on  guard  at  the 
gate. 

" '  Meanwhile  the  corpses  of  the  assassinated  Comparini 
were  exposed  at  San  Lorenzo,  in  Lucina,  but  so  disfigured, 
and  especially  Franceschini's  wife,  by  their  wounds  in  the 
face,  that  they  were  no  longer  recognizable.  The  unhappy 
Francesca,  after  taking  the  sacrament,  forgiving  her  murder- 
ers, under  seventeen  years  of  age,  and  after  having  made 
her  will,  died  on  the  sixth  day  of  the  month,  which  was  that 
of  the  Epiphany ;  and  was  able  to  clear  herself  of  all  the 
calumnies  which  her  husband  had  brought  against  her. 
The  surprise  of  the  people  in  seeing  these  corpses  was 
great,  from  the  atrocity  of  the  deed,  which  made  one  really 
shudder,  seeing  two  septuagenarians  and  a  girl  of  seventeen 
so  miserably  put  to  death. 

" '  The  trial  proceeding  meanwhile,  many  papers  were 
drawn  up  on  the  subject,  bringing  forward  all  the  most  in- 
criminating circumstances  of  this  horrible  massacre ;  and 
others  also  were  written  for  the  defense  with  much  erudi- 
tion, especially  by  the  advocate  of  the  poor,  a  certain  Mon- 
signor  Spreti,  which  had  the  effect  of  postponing  the  sen- 
tence ;  also  because  Baldeschi  persisted  in  denial,  though  he 
was  tortured  with  the  rope,  and  twice  fainted  under  it.  At 
last  he  confessed,  and  so  did  the  others,  who  also  revealed 
the  fact  that  they  had  intended  in  due  time  to  murder 
Franceschini  himself,  and  take  his  money,  because  he  had 
not  kept  his  promise  of  paying  them  the  moment  they  should 
have  left  Rome. 

" '  On  the  twenty-second  of  February  there  appeared  on 
the  Piazza  del  Popolo  a  large  platform  with  a  guillotine 
and  two  gibbets,  on  which  the  culprits  were  to  be  executed. 
Many  stands  were  constructed  for  the  convenience  of  those 
who  were  curious  to  witness  such  a  terrible  act  of  justice ; 
and  the  concourse  was  so  great  that  some  windows  fetched 
as  much  as  six  dollars  each.  At  eight  o'clock  Franceschini 
and  his  companions  were  summoned  to  their  death,  and 
having  been  placed  in  the  consorteria,  and  there  assisted  by 


336  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

the  Abate  Panciatici  and  the  Cardinal  Acciajuoli,  forthwith 
disposed  themselves  to  die  well.  At  twenty  o'clock  the 
Company  of  Death  and  the  Misericordia  reached  the  dun- 
geons, and  the  condemned  were  let  down,  placed  on  separate 
carts,  and  conveyed  to  the  place  of  execution.' 

"  It  is  farther  stated  that  Franceschini  showed  the  most 
intrepidity  and  cold  blood  of  them  all,  and  that  he  died 
with  the  name  of  Jesus  on  his  lips.  He  wore  the  same 
clothes  in  which  he  had  committed  the  crime  :  a  close-fitting 
garment  [juste-a^^-corps^  of  gray  cloth,  a  loose  black  shirt 
[camiciuola],  a  goat's  hair  cloak,  a  white  hat,  and  a  cotton 
cap. 

"  The  attempt  made  by  him  to  defraud  his  accomplices, 
poor  and  helpless  as  they  were,  has  been  accepted  by  Mr. 
Browning  as  an  indication  of  character  which  forbade  any 
lenient  interpretation  of  his  previous  acts.  Pompilia,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  absolved  by  all  the  circumstances  of  her 
protracted  death  from  any  doubt  of  her  innocence  which 
previous  evidence  might  have  raised.  Ten  different  persons 
attest  not  only  her  denial  of  any  offense  against  her  hus- 
band, but  what  is  of  far  more  value,  her  Christian  gentle- 
ness, and  absolute  maiden  modesty,  under  the  sufferings  of 
her  last  days,  and  the  medical  treatment  to  which  they  sub- 
jected her.  Among  the  witnesses  are  a  doctor  of  theology 
(Abate  Liberate  Barberito),  the  apothecary  and  his  assist- 
ant, and  a  number  of  monks  or  priests ;  the  first  and  most 
circumstantial  deposition  being  that  of  an  Augustine,  Fra 
Celestino  Angelo  di  Sant'  Anna,  and  concluding  with  these 
words :  '  I  do  not  say  more,  for  fear  of  being  taxed  with 
partiality.  I  know  well  that  God  alone  can  examine  the 
heart.  But  I  know  also  that  from  the  abundance  of  the 
heart  the  mouth  speaks ;  and  that  my  great  St.  Augustine 
says  :  "  As  the  life  was,  so  is  its  end."  ' 

"  It  needed  all  the  evidence  in  Pompilia's  favor  to  secure 
the  full  punishment  of  her  murderer,  strengthened  as  he 
was  by  social  and  ecclesiastical  position,  and  by  the  acknow- 
ledged rights  of  marital  jealousy.  We  find  curious  proof 
of  the  sympathies  which  might  have  prejudiced  his  wife's 
cause  in  the  marginal  notes  appended  to  her  depositions, 
and  which  repeatedly  introduce  them  as  lies. 

"  '  F.  Lie  concerning  the  arrival  at  Castelnuovo" 


The'  Ring  and  the  Book.  337 

"'  H.  New  lies  to  the  effect  that  she  did  not  receive  the 
lover's  letters,  and  does  not  know  how  to  write,'  etc.,  etc. 

"  The  significant  question,  Whether  and  when  a  husband 
may  kill  his  unfaithful  wife,  was  in  the  present  case  not 
thought  to  be  finally  answered,  till  an  appeal  had  been  made 
from  the  ecclesiastical  tribunal  to  the  pope  himself.  It  was 
Innocent  XII.  who  virtually  sentenced  Count  Franceschini 
and  his  four  accomplices  to  death." 

Some  further  details  concerning  the  book  which  became 
the  basis  of  the  poem  are  contained  in  an  account  of  a  visit 
to  Browning  by  Rev.  John  W.  Chadwick,  of  Brooklyn, 
which  was  published  in  The  Christian  Register  for  Jan- 
uary 19,  1888,  under  the  title,  "  An  Eagle-Feather."  Mr. 
Chadwick  asked  the  poet :  — 

"  And  how  about  the  book  of  The  Ring  and  the  Book  ? 
Had  he  made  up  that,  too,  or  was  there  really  such  a  book  ? 
There  was,  indeed ;  and  would  we  like  to  see  it  ?  There 
was  little  doubt  of  that ;  and  it  was  produced,  and  the  story 
of  his  buying  it  for  '  eightpence  English  just '  was  told,  but 
need  not  be  retold  here,  for  in  The  Ring  and  the  Book  it 
is  set  down  with  literal  truth.  The  appearance  and  charac- 
ter of  the  book,  moreover,  are  exactly  what  the  poem  rep- 
resents. It  is  part  print,  part  manuscript,  ending  with  two 
epistolary  accounts,  if  I  remember  rightly,  of  Guide's  exe- 
cution, written  by  the  lawyers  in  the  case.  It  was  an  aston- 
ishing '  find,'  and  it  is  passing  strange  that  a  book  compiled 
so  carefully  should  have  been  brought  to  such  a  low  estate. 
Mr.  Browning  did  not  seem  at  all  inclined  to  toss  it  in  the 
air  and  catch  it,  as  he  does  in  verse.  He  handled  it  very 
carefully,  and  with  very  evident  affection.  I  asked  him  if 
it  did  not  make  him  very  happy  to  have  created  such  a 
woman  as  Pompilia ;  and  he  said,  '  I  assure  you  .that  I  found 
her  just  as  she  speaks  and  acts  in  my  poem  in  that  old 
book.'  There  was  that  in  his  tone  that  made  it  evident 
Caponsacchi  had  a  rival  lover,  without  blame.  Of  the  old 
pope  of  the  poem,  too,  he  spoke  with  real  affection.  He 
told  us  how  he  had  found  a  medal  of  him  in  a  London  anti- 
quary's shop,  had  left  it  meaning  to  come  back  for  it,  came 
back,  and  found  that  it  had  gone.  But  the  shopman  told 
him  Lady  Houghton  (Mrs.  Richard  Monckton  Milnes)  had 
taken  it.  '  You  will  lend  it  to  me,'  said  Mr.  Browning  to 


338  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

her,  '  in  case  I  want  it  some  time  to  be  copied  for  an  illus- 
tration ? '  She  preferred  giving  it  to  him  ;  had  most  likely 
intended  doing  so  when  she  bought  it.  It  was  in  a  pretty 
little  box,  and  had  a  benignant  expression,  exactly  suited  to 
the  character  of  the  good  pope  in  the  poem.  As  further 
proof  that  all  is  grist  that  comes  to  some  folks'  mills  there 
was  a  picture  of  the  miserable  Count  Guido  Franceschini 
on  his  execution  day,  which  some  one  had  come  upon  in  a 
London  printshop,  and  sent  to  Mr.  Browning." 

The  chief  historical  character  in  this  poem  is  Innocent 
XII.,  who  was  pope  from  1691  to  his  death,  in  September, 
1700.  Antonio  Pignatelli  was  born  at  Naples  in  1615,  and 
was  educated  at  the  Jesuit  College  in  Rome.  At  the  age 
of  twenty  he  entered  the  papal  service,  and  rose  step  by 
step  until  he  was  a  cardinal  in  1681  ;  and  he  was  also  the 
archbishop  of  Naples.  When  he  became  pope  he  opposed 
nepotism  and  simony,  and  he  ruled  with  moderation  and 
justice.  He  built  the  harbor  of  Prato  d'  Anzo  on  the  ruins 
of  ancient  Antium,  constructed  an  aqueduct  for  Civita  Vec- 
chia,  and  built  the  palace  of  Monte  Citario  for  the  courts  of 
justice  in  Rome.  He  also  erected  many  other  buildings,  in- 
cluding schools,  asylums,  and  the  penitentiary  of  San  Mi- 
chele.  He  made  a  law  that  no  pope  or  cardinal  should  ever 
indulge  in  nepotism  ;  but  his  main  political  act  was  that 
connected  with  a  quarrel  of  the  popes  with  Louis  XIV.  and 
the  French  church.  Louis  claimed  the  independence  of  the 
French  church,  and  that  he  was  its  head,  practically.  To 
this  assertion  Innocent  was  strongly  opposed,  and  the  quar- 
rel lasted  throughout  his  reign. 

The  Encylopcedia  Sritannica,  in  its  article  on  Innocent 
XL,  says  he  is  the  Pope  of  Browning's  poem ;  but  in  this  it 
is  in  error,  for  the  poem  distinctly  calls  the  Pope  by  his 
name,  "  Antonio  Pignatelli  of  Naples."  Some  reference  is 
made  to  Innocent  XL,  however,  and  especially  in  connection 
with  the  Molinists.  Benedetto  Odescalchi  was  born  at  Como 
in  1611,  became  a  cardinal  in  1647,  and  was  elected  pope 
in  September,  1676.  He  had  courage  and  firmness,  but 
he  was  austere  and  obstinate.  He  reduced  ecclesiastical 
abuses,  and  broke  up  nepotism.  He  was  opposed  by  the 
Jesuits,  but  was  very  popular.  Under  him  began  the  quarrel 
with  Louis  XIV.  He  claimed  the  revenues  of  vacant  eccle- 


The,  Ring  and  the  Book.  339 

siastical  offices  in  France,  which  Louis  desired  for  himself. 
The  quarrel  was  also  waged  with  reference  to  the  right  of 
asylum  of  the  foreign  ambassadors  in  Rome,  a  right  which 
Innocent  refused  to  have  continued.  An  account  of  this 
quarrel  of  diplomatists  is  to  be  found  in  the  third  volume  of 
Ranke's  Ecclesiastical  and  Political  History  of  the  Popes 
of  Rome.  Ranke  says  that  "  Innocent  XI.,  of  the  house  of 
Odescalchi  of  Como,  came  to  Rome  in  his  twenty-fifth  year, 
with  no  other  fortune  than  his  sword  and  pistols,  to  seek 
some  secular  employment  there,  or  perhaps  to  take  service 
in  the  Neapolitan  army.  The  advice  of  a  cardinal,  who 
saw  more  deeply  into  his  character  than  he  did  himself,  in- 
duced him  to  enter  upon  the  career  of  the  curia.  This  he 
did  with  so  much  zeal  and  earnestness,  and  gradually  se- 
cured such  a  reputation  for  ability  and  good  intentions,  that 
while  the  conclave  was  sitting  the  people  shouted  his  name 
under  the  porticoes  of  St.  Peter's,  and  there  was  a  general 
feeling  of  satisfaction  when  his  election  was  declared.  He 
was  a  man  of  such  mildness  and  humility  of  manner  that 
when  he  called  for  any  of  his  servants,  it  was  with  the  res- 
ervation, '  if  it  was  convenient  to  them  ; '  of  such  purity  of 
heart  and  life  that  his  confessor  declared  that  he  never  dis- 
covered in  him  anything  which  could  sever  the  soul  from 
God;  meek  and  gentle,  but  impelled  by  the  same  conscien- 
tiousness which  governed  his  private  life  to  fulfill  the  duties 
of  his  office  with  inflexible  integrity." 

This  account  of  Innocent  XL  agrees  much  better  with 
the  character  attributed  by  Browning  to  his  Pope  than  any- 
thing which  is  told  of  Innocent  XII.  It  seems  that  the 
poet  confounded  the  two  men  with  each  other,  or,  what  is 
more  probable,  that  he  deliberately  gave  to  Innocent  XII. 
qualities  which  belonged  only  to  Innocent  XL 

Reference  is  frequently  made  throughout  the  poem  to  the 
Molinists.  As  there  have  been  two  or  three  parties  in  the 
Catholic  Church  bearing  this  name,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in 
mind  that  those  to  whom  Browning  refers  are  the  followers 
of  Michel  de  Molinos,  who  was  born  of  a  noble  Spanish  fam- 
ily in  the  diocese  of  Saragossa,  Aragon,  December  21, 1627. 
He  graduated  at  Coimbra,  had  a  successful  experience  in  his 
own  country,  and  then  went  to  Rome.  He  very  soon  be- 
came very  popular  as  a  spiritual  adviser,  and  in  1675  he 


340  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

published  a  book  entitled  II  Guida  Spirituale.  This  book 
rapidly  attained  a  great  success,  going  through  with  no  less 
than  twenty  editions  in  six  years  and  in  several  languages. 
The  first  English  translation  appeared  in  1699  as  The  Spir- 
itual Guide  which  disentangles  the  soul,  and  brings  it  by 
the  inward  way  to  the  getting  of  perfect  contemplation  and 
the  rich  treasure  of  internal  peace.  Written  by  Dr.  Mi- 
chel Molinos,  priest.  Molinos  had  a  genius  for  religious 
instruction,  and  the  ability  to  make  spiritual  things  real  to 
those  he  influenced.  His  doctrine  is  known  as  Quietism, 
and  it  is  simply  mysticism,  with  the  peculiarities  of  his  own 
time,  place,  and  religious  surroundings.  Mr.  John  Bigelow 
says  of  his  book  :  "  The  substance  of  its  teachings  was  that 
the  soul  of  man  is  the  temple  and  abode  of  God,  which  we 
ought,  therefore,  to  keep  as  clean  and  pure  from  worldli- 
ness,  and  lusts  of  the  flesh,  and  the  pride  of  life,  as  possible. 
The  true  end  of  human  life  ought  to  be,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  attainment  of  perfection.  In  the  progress  to  this  result, 
Molinos  distinguishes  two  principal  stages  or  degrees,  the 
first  attainable  by  meditation,  the  second,  and  highest,  by 
contemplation.  In  the  first  stage  the  attention  is  fixed  upon 
the  capital  truths  of  religion,  upon  all  the  circumstances 
under  which  religion  has  been  commended  to  us,  objections 
are  wrestled  with,  and  doubts  which  might  trouble  the  soul 
one  by  one  are  resolved  and  banished.  In  this  stage  it  is 
the  reason,  mainly,  that  acts,  and  often,  if  not  altogether,  in 
opposition  to  the  will  or  the  natural  man.  One,  however, 
does  not  reach  the  higher  stage  of  devotion  till  the  soul 
ceases  to  struggle,  till  it  has  no  farther  need  of  proofs  or  re- 
flection, till  it  contemplates  the  truth  in  silence  and  re- 
pose. This  is  what  is  termed  retirement  of  the  soul  and 
perfect  contemplation,  in  which  the  soul  does  not  reason  nor 
reflect,  neither  about  God  nor  itself,  but  passively  receives 
the  impressions  of  celestial  light,  undisturbed  by  the  world 
or  its  works.  Whenever  the  soul  can  be  lifted  up  to  this 
state,  it  desires  nothing,  not  even  its  own  salvation,  and  fears 
nothing,  not  even  hell.  It  becomes  indifferent  to  the  use  of 
the  sacraments,  and  to  all  the  practices  of  sensible  devotion, 
having  transcended  the  sphere  of  their  efficacy." 

Such  was  the  teaching  of  Molinos,  which  at  first  was  re- 
ceived with  great  favor,  but  which  at  last  provoked  the  most 


The  Ring  and  the  Book.  341 

bitter  opposition  and  persecution.  As  Browning  frequently 
refers  to  the  intense  interest  created  in  Rome  by  the  teach- 
ings of  Molinos,  Mr.  Bigelow  may  be  again  drawn  upon  for 
an  account  of  his  career.  "  There  is  nothing  in  these  doc- 
trines of  passivity  which  had  not  been  taught  by  many  of 
the  most  highly  esteemed  mystical  writers  of  the  Church,  by 
St.  Bonaventura,  St.  Theresa,  John  of  the  Cross,  the  Baron- 
ess de  Chantal,  St.  Francis  de  Sales,  and  others,  some  of 
whom  had  indeed  been  canonized  as  saints.  The  doctrines 
were  presented  in  a  simple  and  unaffected  style,  and  the 
book,  as  well  as  its  author,  acquired  a  prompt  and  extraor- 
dinary popularity.  Its  author's  acquaintance  and  friend- 
ship was  sought  by  people  in  the  greatest  credit,  not  only  at 
Rome,  but  in  other  parts  of  Europe,  by  correspondence. 
Among  his  followers  were  three  fathers  of  the  Oratoire, 
who  soon  after  received  cardinal's  hats,  and  even  the  popes 
who  successively  occupied  the  pontifical  chair  during  his 
residence  in  Rome  took  particular  notice  of  him.  The  Car- 
dinal Odescalchi  was  no  sooner  raised  to  the  pontificate  as 
Innocent  XI.  than  he  provided  Molinos  with  lodgings  at 
the  Vatican,  and  such  was  his  esteem  for  him  that  he  is 
said  to  have  formed  the  purpose  of  making  him  a  cardinal, 
and  to  have  actually  selected  him  for  a  time  as  his  spiritual 
director. 

"  With  such  evidence  of  protection  in  high  quarters,  and 
with  so  much  in  his  theology  of  unworldliness  and  devout- 
ness  to  commend  it  to  the  understandings  as  well  as  to  the 
hearts  of  the  faithful,  the  popularity  of  Molinos  grew  apace. 
He  seemed  to  them  another  St.  Paul,  sent  to  emancipate 
them  from  the  thrall  of  image-manufacturers  and  an  idola- 
trous and  costly  ceremonial ;  to  bring  them  nearer  to  God 
and  farther  from  priestcraft  and  obscurantism.  He  was 
neither  greedy  nor  ambitious.  He  sought  no  place,  nor 
would  he  accept  any,  —  not  even  a  cardinal's  hat.  A  priest 
at  Rome  without  ambition  was  such  an  unusual  phenomenon 
that  it  alone  would  have  sufficed  to  make  him  famous. 
Every  one  who  was  sincerely  devout,  or  who  wished  to  be 
thought  so,  adopted  '  the  method  of  Molinos,'  and  many  who 
wished  promotion  at  Rome  saw  no  surer  nor  speedier  way 
to  it  than  to  establish  good  relations  with  him  and  his 
friends.  Queen  Christine,  of  Sweden,  then  the  lioness  of 


342  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

Rome,  was  under  his  direction,  and  made  his  gifts  and  piety 
a  favorite  theme  of  her  extensive  correspondence.  Cardinal 
d'Estre'es,  who  represented  Louis  XIV.  and  his  government 
at  the  pontifical  court,  and  who  was  one  of  the  most  accom- 
plished courtiers  of  his  time,  felt  it  to  be  worth  his  while  to 
identify  himself  with  the  new  departure,  and  to  put  Molinos 
in  correspondence  with  important  people  in  France." 

Among  other  people  in  Rome  at  this  time  was  Gilbert 
Burnet,  the  English  bishop  and  historian,  who  wrote  in  the 
winter  of  1685  this  account  of  Quietism :  "  The  new  method 
of  Molinos  doth  so  much  prevail  at  Naples  that  it  is  be- 
lieved he  hath  above  twenty  thousand  followers  in  that  city. 
He  hath  writ  a  book  which  is  intitled  II  Guida  Spirituale, 
which  is  a  short  abstract  of  the  Mystical  Divinity  ;  the  sub- 
stance of  the  whole  is  reduced  to  this,  that,  in  our  prayers 
and  other  devotions,  the  best  methods  are  to  retire  the  mind 
from  all  gross  images,  and  so  to  form  an  act  of  Faith,  and 
thereby  to  present  ourselves  before  God,  and  then  to  sink 
into  a  silence  and  cessation  of  new  acts,  and  to  let  God  act 
upon  us,  and  so  to  follow  his  conduct.  This  way  he  prefers 
to  the  multiplication  of  many  new  acts  and  different  forms 
of  devotion,  and  he  makes  small  account  of  corporal  austeri- 
ties, and  reduces  all  the  exercises  of  religion  to  this  sim- 
plicity of  mind.  He  thinks  this  is  not  only  to  be  proposed 
to  such  as  live  in  religious  houses,  but  even  to  secular  per- 
sons, and  by  this  he  hath  proposed  a  new  reformation  of 
men's  minds  and  manners.  He  hath  many  priests  in  Italy, 
but  chiefly  in  Naples,  that  dispose  those  who  confess  them- 
selves to  them  to  follow  his  methods.  The  Jesuits  have  set 
themselves  much  against  this  conduct  as  forseeing  it  may 
weaken  the  empire  that  superstition  hath  over  the  minds  of 
the  people  ;  that  it  may  make  religion  become  a  more  plain 
and  simple  thing,  and  may  also  open  the  door  to  enthusi- 
asms. They  also  pretend  that  his  conduct  is  factious  and 
seditious  ;  that  this  may  breed  a  schism  in  the  Church. 
And  because  he  saith  in  some  places  of  his  book  that  the 
mind  may  rise  up  to  such  simplicity  in  its  acts  that  it  may 
rise  in  some  of  its  devotions  to  God  immediately,  without 
contemplating  the  humanity  of  Christ,  they  have  accused 
him  as  intending  to  lay  aside  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  human- 
ity, though  it  is  plain  that  he  speaks  only  of  the  purity  of 


The  Ring  and  the  Book.  343 

some  single  acts.  Upon  all  those  heads  they  have  set  them- 
selves much  against  Molinos,  and  they  have  also  pretended 
that  some  of  his  disciples  have  infused  it  into  their  peni-  , 
tents  that  they  may  go  and  communicate  as  they  find  themr 
selves  disposed  without  going  first  to  confession,  which 
they  thought  weakened  much  the  yoke  by  which  the  priests 
subdue  the  consciences  of  the  people  to  their  conduct.  Yet 
he  was  much  supported,  both  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples  and 
Sicily.  He  hath  also  many  friends  and  followers  at  Rome. 
So  the  Jesuits,  as  a  provincial  of  the  Order  assured  me,  find- 
ing they  could  not  ruin  him  by  their  own  force,  got  a  great 
king,  that  is  now  extremely  in  the  interests  of  their  Order, 
to  interpose,  and  to  represent  to  the  Pope  the  danger  of 
such  innovations.  It  is  certain  the  Pope  understands  the 
matter  very  little,  and  that  he  is  possessed  of  a  great  opinion 
of  Molinos'  sanctity  ;  yet,  upon  the  complaints  of  some 
cardinals  that  seconded  the  zeal  of  that  king,  he  and  some 
of  his  followers  were  clapt  into  the  Inquisition,  where  they 
have  been  now  for  some  months,  but  still  they  are  well  used, 
which  is  believed  to  flow  from  the  good  opinion  that  the 
Pope  hath  of  him,  who  saith  still  that  he  may  err,  yet  he 
is  still  a  good  man." 

In  1686  Molinos  was  brought  to  trial,  but  in  opposition, 
to  the  wishes  of  Innocent  XI.  Indeed,  for  months  the 
Jesuits  had  to  labor  before  they  could  remove  the  opposition 
which  the  pope  alone  interposed  to  the  fulfillment  of  their 
wishes.  Innocent  was  accused  of  heresy  and  threatened 
with  the  power  of  the  Church  before  he  would  yield  and 
consent  to  the  condemnation  of  a  man  in  whom  he  saw  no 
evil.  The  trial  was  made  as  imposing  and  formidable  as 
possible ;  and  the  condemnation  of  Molinos  being  prear- 
ranged it  was  sought  to  make  it  the  occasion  of  awing  and 
silencing  his  followers  by  putting  upon  his  teachings  the 
terrible  brand  of  the  Church's  disapproval.  Molinos  bore 
up  under  his  condemnation  quietly  and  bravely.  His  trial 
was  a  mockery,  a  farce  from  first  to  last,  so  far  as  justice 
was  concerned.  He  was  condemned  to  perpetual  solitude  ; 
and  he  was  completely  isolated  from  the  world,  and  so  effec- 
tually that  nothing  more  is  known  of  him,  except  that  he 
died  in  September,  1696. 

For  an  account  of  this  remarkable  man,  see  Molinos  the 


344  The,  Ring  and  the  Boole. 

Quietist,  by  John  Bigelow,  which  gives  the  story  of  his 
career  in  Rome  and  his  trial ;  and  also  the  bull  of  condem- 
nation issued  by  Innocent  XI.  The  teachings  of  Molinos 
are  presented  in  that  striking  spiritual  romance,  John  Ingle- 
sant,  by  J.  H.  Shorthouse.  Mr.  Shorthouse  has  also  edited 
a  volume  called  Golden  Thoughts  from  the  "  Spiritual 
Gruide  "  of  Molinos. 

The  teachings  of  Molinos  did  not  lose  their  power  with 
his  condemnation  and  death.  They  were  soon  after  taken 
up  in  France  by  Madame  Guyon,  and  they  became  the 
source  of  her  influence  and  of  her  many  writings.  Then 
they  passed  on  to  Fe'nelon  and  the  school  of  religious 
thought  of  which  he  was  the  noblest  representative.  His 
struggle  with  Bossuet  over  his  Maxims  of  the  Saints,  in 
which  he  had  passed  Molinism  through  the  alembic  of  his 
rare  genius,  forms  one  of  the  most  interesting  episodes  in 
religious  history.  Browning  touches  upon  this  when  he 
mentions  the  Jansenists,  the  name  given  to  Fe'nelon  and  his 
followers.  Jansen  was  a  Hollander,  1585-1638,  who  re- 
vived the  spirit  of  the  theology  of  St.  Augustine.  His 
teachings  passed  into  France,  and  there  gained  the  name  of 
Jansenism  about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century.  This 
was  a  liberal  movement  within  the  Catholic  Church,  based 
on  the  same  spiritual  principles  as  Protestanism,  and  for 
that  reason  opposed  by  the  Jesuits,  and  finally  condemned 
by  the  Church.  The  Jansenist  movement  found  its  noblest 
expression  in  Port  Royal,  the  Arnaulds,  Fe'nelon,  and  the 
Provincial  Letters  of  Pascal. 

The  journey  of  Caponsacchi  and  Pompilia  was  from 
Arezzo  to  Rome,  and  we  may  follow  them.  Arezzo,  situ- 
ated in  middle  Italy,  is  the  capital  of  the  province  of  Arezzo. 
It  is  fifty-five  miles  southeast  of  Florence,  and  about  one 
hundred  north  of  Rome.  It  has  two  colleges,  a  cathedral, 
an  academy  of  arts  and  sciences,  a  school  qf  technology,  and 
extensive  manufactories.  Its  population  is  about  forty  thou- 
sand. In  his  Cities  of  Italy  Hare  gives  this  account  of 
Arezzo  and  the  Pieve  mentioned  so  often  by  Caponsacchi : 
"  Arezzo  is  a  charming  place  with  a  bright  Tuscan  aspect, 
and  it  will  strike  travelers  coming  from  the  south  by  the 
cheerfulness  of  its  broad  pavements  and  the  green  shutters 
of  its  houses.  As  Arretium,  one  of  the  twelve  cities  of  the 


The  Ring  and  the  Book.  345 

Etruscan  confederation,  it  was  celebrated  for  its  vases  of  red 
pottery.  It  was  the  headquarters  of  the  Consul  Flaminius 
before  the  battle  of  Thrasymene.  In  the  Middle  Ages  it 
was  chiefly  held  by  the  Ghibelline  party.  Among  its  fa- 
mous citizens  have  been  Maecenas  ;  Petrarch ;  Pietro  (Bacci) 
Aretino,  1492 ;  Margaritone  ;  Spinello,  the  artist,  1328 ; 
Vasari,  and  many  other  distinguished  citizens.  The  Via 
Cavour  leads  immediately  into  the  Corso.  Here,  on  the 
right,  is  the  great  Church  of  S.  Maria  della  Pieve,  founded 
by  Bishop  Aribertus  between  980  and  1000,  but  chiefly 
built  in  1216  by  the  native  architect,  Marchionne.  The  in- 
terior has  three  aisles  separated  by  tall  pillars  with  richly 
sculptured  Corinthian  capitals.  It  is  very  simple  and  se- 
vere, and  was  restored  in  1874-75.  At  the  high  altar  is 
a  Saint  George,  by  Vasari."  In  his  Tuscan  Sculptors  Per- 
kins says  of  this  church  :  "  Towards  the  end  of  the  twelfth 
or  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  taste  for  ex- 
travagant or  capricious  ornament  in  architeotui'al  sculpture 
showed  itself  in  the  fagade  of  the  Pieve,  or  parochial  church 
of  Arezzo.  It  has  three  rows  of  columns,  one  above  the 
other,  bound  together  in  groups  of  two,  three,  and  four, 
varying  in  size,  shape,  and  length,  twisted  like  vines,  or 
fashioned  into  human  forms,  based  upon  extravagantly  con- 
ceived animals,  and  covered  with  capitals  fantastically  orna- 
mented." Pieve  is  the  Italian  name  for  a  parish  church. 

The  cathedral  of  which  Caponsacchi  was  a  canon  or  as- 
sistant to  the  bishop  is  in  the  Gothic  style,  and  was  begun  in 
1277,  but  is  not  yet  completed.  It  is  built  of  yellow  stone 
with  an  octangular  campanile  or  bell  tower,  arid  its  statues 
are  crude  and  broken.  It  has  a  very  beautiful  interior,  a 
finely  colored  roof,  and  brilliant  stained  windows.  The  sim- 
plicity of  the  lines,  says  Hare,  is  seldom  broken,  and  only 
by  objects  of  the  rarest  beauty.  This  cathedral  contains 
several  magnificent  tombs  by  Margaritone,  Pisano,  and 
other  sculptors. 

The  city  has  statues  of  Ferdinand  I.  and  Ferdinand  III., 
to  one  of  which  Caponsacchi  refers.  The  vineyards  of 
Arezzo  have  been  celebrated  ever  since  the  days  of  Pliny. 

The  first  stopping  place  of  Caponsacchi  was  Perugia, 
about  thirty-five  miles  southeast  of  Arezzo,  one  of  the  finest 
and  largest  of  the  hill-towns  of  Italy.  It  has  a  university, 


346  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

and  has  been  noted  for  centuries  for  its  interest  in  art  and 
literature.  It  has  many  works  of  art  in  architecture,  paint- 
ing, sculpture,  and  antiquities. 

At  Foligno  the  travelers  struck  the  great  highway  from 
Ancona  and  eastern  Italy  to  Rome.  This  is  a  small  town, 
not  far  from  Perugia.  It  has  a  cathedral  and  a  few  impor- 
tant works  of  art. 

Castelnuovo,  the  place  where  the  travelers  are  overtaken 
by  Guido,  is  a  village,  about  fifteen  miles  from  Rome,  on  the 
Via  Flaminia.  It  consists  only  of  an  inn  and  a  small  clus- 
ter of  houses. 

Page  1.  CastellanVs  imitative  craft.  Castellani  is  a  fa- 
mous jeweler  of  Rome,  whose  shop  is  in  the  Palazzo  Poli. 
He  is  mentioned  by  About  and  Ampere  in  their  works  on 
Rome.  His  shop  contained  a  large  collection  of  Etruscan 
designs,  remarkable  for  its  beauty.  In  his  Roba  di  Roma 
Mr.  W.  W.  Story  speaks  of  his  "  admirable  reproductions 
of  jewelry  in  the  Etruscan  and  early  Christian  style,  which 
have  won  for  him  so  just  a  celebrity,  and  who  exercises  his 
profession  in  the  true  spirit  of  an  antiquary  and  an  artist." 
—  Old  tombs  at  Chiusi.  In  Chiusi,  a  city  of  central  Italy, 
are  some  remarkable  Etruscan  tombs.  Hare,  in  his  Cities 
of  Northern  and  Central  Italy,  says  that  "  the  most  im- 
portant of  these  tombs  is  that  called  Poggio  Cajella,  about 
three  miles  north  by  northeast  of  the  town.  It  is  a  tumu- 
lus, containing  a  number  of  tombs  arranged  in  groups  on 
three  terraces  one  above  the  other  and  intersected  by 
labyrinthine  passages  of  unknown  intention." 

2.  Lira.  An  Italian  coin,  19  cents.  —  Baccio' s  marble. 
Baccio  Bandinelli,  a  Florentine  sculptor,  1497-1559.  See 
Leader  Scott's  Tuscan  Studies  and  Sketches.  This  marble 
is  described  in  Hare's  Cities  of  Italy :  "  The  Borgo  di 
San  Lorenzo,  which  opens  opposite  the  Arcivescovado,  leads 
speedily  to  the  Piazza  San  Lorenzo,  in  one  corner  of  which 
is  a  statue  of  Giovanni  delle  Bande  Nere  (father  of  Cosimo 
I.)  by  Baccio  Bandinelli.  Like  most  of  the  works  of  this 
conceited  but  indifferent  master,  it  has  been  much  ridi- 
culed." —  John  of  the  Black  Bands.  The  Giovanni  delle 
Bande  Nere  just  mentioned.  —  Riccardi.  The  Palazzo 
Riccardi,  formerly  the  palace  of  the  Medici.  See  page 
402.  —  San  Lorenzo.  The  great  church  by  that  name  in 


The  Ring  and  the  Boole.  347 

Florence.  —  Crazie.  Coins  worth  one  and  one  half  cents 
each.  —  Lionard.  Lionardo  da  Vinci,  whose  picture  called 
Joconde  is  in  the  Louvre  gallery. 

3.  Lorenzo  named  the  Square.  The  square  in  front  of 
the  church  of  San  Lorenzo,  Florence.  —  Strozzi.  The 
Strozzi  palace.  It  was  built  near  the  end  of  the  fifteenth 
century,  and  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  structures  of  its 
kind. 

7.  Presbyter.  Priest.  The  names  following  give  the  suc- 
cessive steps  to  full  priesthood.  —  Ghetto.  The  quarter 
assigned  to  the  Jews  in  Italian  cities,  especially  during  the 
Middle  Ages.  Pope  Paul  IV.  first  instituted  this  quarter 
in  Rome,  and  confined  the  Jews  within  it.  See  Story's 
Roba  di  Roma,  and  Castelar's  Old  Rome  and  New  Italy, 
for  vivid  accounts  of  it  in  recent  years. 

13.  Abate.  Abbot.  —  Canon.  A  member  of  the  chapter 
or  council  of  a  bishop ;  a  priest  attached  to  a  cathedral  or  a 
collegiate  church. 

21.  The  market-place  of  the  Barberini.  "  Whoever  has 
been  in  Rome,"  says  Christian  Andersen,  "  is  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  Piazza  Barberini,  in  the  great  square, 
with  the  beautiful  fountain  where  the  Tritons  empty  the 
spouting  conch-shell,  from  which  the  water  springs  upward 
many  feet."  —  Bernini's  creature.  Giovanni  Lorenzo  Ber- 
nini was  born  in  Naples  in  1598,  went  to  Rome  early, 
worked  for  the  popes  and  cardinals  as  an  architect  and 
sculptor,  spent  some  time  in  Paris,  and  died  in  1680.  He 
built  the  palace  of  the  Barberini,  and  the  fountain  in  front 
of  it. 

28.  Corelli  to  young  Haendel.  Arcangelo  Corelli,  1653- 
1713,  was  a  great  violinist  and  composer.  He  lived  in 
Rome,  where  he  gained  a  great  reputation  as  a  performer. 
Herr  Paul  David  says  of  his  relations  to  Handel :  "  Handel 
conducted  some  of  his  own  cantatas,  which  were  written  in 
a  more  complicated  style  than  the  music  with  which  Corelli 
and  the  Italian  musicians  of  that  period  were  familiar. 
Handel  tried  in  vain  to  explain  to  Corelli,  who  was  leading 
the  band,  how  a  certain  passage  ought  to  be  executed,  and 
at  last,  losing  his  temper,  snatched  the  violin  from  Corelli's 
hands  and  played  it  himself,  whereupon  Corelli  remarked  in 
the  politest  manner,  '  But,  my  dear  Saxon,  this  music  is  in 


348  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

the  French  style,  of  which  I  have  no  experience.'  He  had 
a  European  reputation  and  wrote  much.  Corelli  has  a 
double  claim  to  a  prominent  place  in  the  history  of  musical 
art  —  as  a  great  violinist  who  laid  a  firm  foundation  for  all 
future  development  of  technique  and  of  a  pure  style  of 
playing  ;  and  as  a  composer  who  materially  advanced  the 
progress  of  composition."  See  the  Musical  Dictionaries  of 
Hawkins,  Grove,  and  Apthorp. 

29.  New  Prison.  A  reference  to  the  prison  built  by  In- 
nocent XI. 

33.  Lorenzo  in  Lucina.  This  is  the  church  of  Pom- 
pilia,  and  is  situated  in  the  small  square  of  San  Lorenzo, 
which  opens  out  of  the  Corso.  "  Here,"  says  Hare  in  his 
Walks  in  Rome,  "  is  the  Church  of  San  Lorenzo  in  Lucina, 
founded  in  the  fifth  century,  but  rebuilt  in  its  present  form 
by  Paul  V.  in  1606.  The  campanile  is  of  an  older  date, 
and  so  are  the  lions  in  the  portico.  No  one  should  omit 
seeing  the  grand  picture  of  Guido  Reni  over  the  high  altar 
of  this  church,  —  the  crucifixion,  seen  against  a  wild, 
stormy  sky.  Niccolas  Poussin  is  buried  here,  and  one  of 
his  best  known  Arcadian  landscapes  is  reproduced  in  a  bas- 
relief  upon  his  tomb,  which  was  erected  by  Chateaubriand." 
—  Corso.  The  principal  street,  the  great  thoroughfare,  of 
Rome,  along  which  the  Carnival  passes.  "The  Corso," 
said  Dickens,  "  is  a  street  a  mile  long ;  a  street  of  shops, 
and  palaces,  and  private  houses,  sometimes  opening  into  a 
broad  piazza.  There  are  verandas  and  balconies,  of  all 
shapes  and  sizes,  to  almost  every  house." 

37.  Cardinal  who  book-made  on  the  same.  Cardinal 
d'Estre'es  published  two  or  three  books  in  connection  with 
the  teachings  of  Molinos.  —  Ruspoli.  The  Ruspoli  palace 
on  the  Corso. 

54.   Osteria.     Tavern  or  inn. 

56.  Sbirri.     Pontifical  police. 

59.  Convertites.  An  order  of  nuns  devoted  to  the  rescue 
of  the  fallen,  having  been  rescued  from  the  same  fate  them- 
selves. 

61.  Canidian  hate.  A  reference  to  the  account  given  by 
Horace  in  his  poems  of  the  hate  and  rage  of  Canidia,  a  witch. 

69.  Saint  Anna's.  The  Monastery  of  Saint  Anna  in 
Rome,  in  which  Vittoria  Colonna  also  waited  for  death.  — 


The  Ring  and  the  Boole.  349 

Maratta.  A  painter  of  the  school  of  Guido  Reni,  1625- 
1713,  who  painted  numerous  madonnas. 

76.  Square  of  Spain.  The  square  in  which  the  palace  of 
the  Spanish  ambassador  is  situated.  On  one  side  of  it  are 
the  buildings  of  the  Propaganda,  and  on  the  other  the 
magnificent  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the  church  of  La  Tri- 
nita  de  Monti. 

110.  Pauls.  Old  Italian  silver  coins  worth  about  ten 
cents. 

116.  Place  Colonna.  The  Piazza  Colonna  is  a  square  in 
Rome  fronting  the  Corso,  and  containing  the  Antonine 
Column.  —  Zecchines.  Gold  coins  worth  about  two  and 
one  half  dollars. 

126.  Leda.  A  picture  by  Correggio,  1494-1534,  now  in 
the  Museum  at  Berlin. 

130.  Acquetta.     A  slow  poison. 

131.  Paphos.     A  city  of  ancient  Cyprus,  containing  the 
temple  of  Aphrodite,  who  was  said  to  have  been  born  here 
of  the  foam  of  the  sea.     The  sensual  rites  of  this  goddess 
are  alluded  to  by  the  poet. 

134.  Place  Navona.  The  Piazza  Navona  is  a  vast  ob- 
long square,  containing  three  fountains. 

139.  Stinche.     A  prison. 

153.  Pietro  of.Cortona.  Pietro  da  Cortona,  1596-1669, 
a  painter  who  worked  in  Florence  and  Rome  and  decorated 
the  ceilings  of  the  Palazzo  Barberini,  was  mainly  a  scenic 
painter,  and  a  decorator  of  walls  and  ceilings.  —  Ciro 
Ferri.  An  historic  painter,  1634-1689,  a  pupil  of  Cor- 
tona, and  worked  mainly  in  his  manner. 

155.  Ser  Franco's  merry  Tales.  The  Novels  and  Tales 
of  Franco  Saccheti,  1335-1400.  They  have  something  of 
the  quality  of  Boccaccio,  but  with  more  of  purity. 

161.  Bilboa.  A  sword  so  named  from  the  Spanish  ad- 
venturer and  American  discoverer. 

165.  Gate  San  Spirito.  The  Porta  San  Spirito  of 
Arezzo  is  on  the  side  of  the  city  towards  Rome. 

173.  Ovid's  art.  The  Art  of  Love  of  Ovid.  —  "Summa." 
The  Summa  Theologice  of  Thomas  Aquinas,  the  chief  of 
the  scholastic  thinkers.  His  summary  of  theology  was  the 
principal  book  of  theologians  in  the  Middle  Ages. 

198.  Facchini.     A  porter  or  base  fellow. 


350  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

199.  Marino.  Probably  Giovanni  Battista  Marini  is 
meant.  He  lived  from  1569  to  1625,  and  was  the  leading 
poet  of  his  time.  He  broke  away  from  the  classical  style. 
His  own  manner  was  affected  and  unreal,  leaning  towards 
the  romantic.  His  Adonis  was  a  very  popular  poem  in  its 
day. 

210.  Saint  Thomas.    Thomas  Aquinas. 

226.  Pasquin.  A  rough,  unfinished,  and  mutilated  statue 
in  the  Piazza  di  Pasquino,  at  the  angle  of  the  Braschi 
Palace,  near  the  Piazza  Navona.  It  was  found  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  and  is  thought  to  represent  Menelaus  sup- 
porting the  dead  body  of  Patroclus.  It  has  been  greatly 
admired  by  some  artists,  and  Bernini  even  thought  it  the 
finest  fragment  of  antiquity.  A  tailor  by  the  name  of 
Pasquino,  near  whose  shop  it  was,  entertained  his  customers 
with  the  gossip  of  the  day.  At  the  same  time  the  statue 
was  used  for  pasting  squibs  and  satires  upon  in  the  vein  of 
Pasquino's  tattle.  Hence  these  writings  came  to  be  called 
pasquinades.  Jibes,  satires,  rhymed  wit,  posted  in  some 
public  place,  have  for  centuries  been  a  peculiar  and  popular 
institution  in  Rome  under  the  name  of  Pasquin.  See 
Story's  Roba  di  Roma,  and  Hare's  Walks  in  Rome,  for 
accounts  of  this  form  of  satire.  —  Bembo.  Pietro  Bembo, 
1470-1547,  cardinal,  scholar,  grammai-ian,  and  restorer  of 
Latin.  See  Asolando  in  this  volume. 

246.  Master  Malpichi.  Probably  Malpighi,  1628- 
1694,  a  professor  of  medicine  in  Bologna  university,  who 
was  in  1691  summoned  to  Rome  and  appointed  chief  phy- 
sician and  chamberlain  of  Innocent  XII. 

290.  Theodoric.  The  king  of  the  Ostrogoths  in  the  fifth 
century.  —  Cassiodorus.  The  prime  minister  of  Theodoric, 
and  a  Latin  writer  on  rhetoric  and  grammar,  who  wrote  a 
history  of  the  Goths.  —  Scaliger.  The  name  of  father  and 
son,  two  famous  scholars  of  the  fifteenth  century.  The 
Scaligerana  of  the  son,  Joseph  Justus  Scaliger,  is  referred 
to  by  the  poet.  —  Idyllist.  Theocritus.  —  Aelian.  A 
Latin  writer  of  the  third  century,  who  wrote  a  miscella- 
neous history,  and  a  work  on  the  peculiarities  of  animals. 
Some  critics  have  thought  these  works  were  written  by  dif- 
ferent authors,  and  the  poet  refers  to  this  discussion. 

292.  Saint  Jerome.    The  great  bishop  of   the  fifth  cen- 


The  Ring  and  the  Book.  351 

tury,  the  organizer  of  the  Roman  Church.  —  Gregory  smiles 
in  his  First  Dialogue.  Gregory  I.,  pope  from  590  to 
604,  wrote  dialogues  which  contained  many  accounts  of 
miracles. 

293.  St.  Bernard.     Abbot  of  Clairvaux,  1091-1153. 

390.  Valerius  Maximus.  A  Latin  writer  of  the  first 
century,  whose  Exemplorum  Memorabilium  Libri  Novem 
ad  Tiberium  Ccesarem  Augustum  was  devoted  to  auspi- 
cies,  omens,  prodigies,  dreams,  and  miracles.  —  Cyriacus. 
An  early  Latin  writer  on  law. 

301.  Brazen  Head.  In  the  Middle  Ages  there  was  a  cur- 
rent belief  that  a  brazen  head  could  be  made  which  would 
speak.  It  is  said  that  Roger  Bacon  was  occupied  for  seven 
years  in  the  construction  of  such  a  head,  which  he  ex- 
pected would  tell  him  how  to  put  a  wall  of  brass  around 
Britain.  It  was  expected  that  this  head  would  speak 
within  a  month  of  its  completion,  but  as  no  particular  time 
was  given  Bacon  set  his  man  to  watch.  At  the  end  of  a 
half  hour  the  head  said  '  Time  is ; '  after  another  half  hour, 
(  Time  was  ; '  and  in  still  another,  '  Time  's  past,'  when  it 
fell  down  with  a  crash  and  was  shivered  in  pieces. 

358.  Formosus.  Pope  from  891  to  895.  Stephen  VI. 
or  VII.,  who  soon  after  succeeded  him,  was  his  political 
opponent,  owing  to  a  difference  of  opinion  as  to  whether 
Arnulph  or  Lambert  should  be  the  emperor.  Formosus 
favored  Arnulph,  and  Stephen  was  on  the  side  of  Lambert. 
Stephen  dug  up  the  body  of  Formosus,  put  on  his  pontifical 
robes,  seated  him  in  the  papal  chair,  addressed  him  as  if 
he  were  alive,  had  him  tried,  and  condemned  him  for  un- 
lawfully holding  the  papal  chair.  Romanus  became  pope 
in  September,  897,  and  held  the  place  for  three  months  and 
twenty-two  days.  One  writer  says  he  annulled  the  acts  of 
Stephen  with  reference  to  Formosus,  and  declared  his  pro- 
ceedings unjust  and  illegal.  The  early  writers  do  not  make 
this  statement.  Stephen  seems  to  have  been  driven  from 
Rome  and  strangled  in  896,  for  he  was  a  bad  and  unjust 
man.  Theodoric  II.  became  pope  in  898,  and  held  the 
office  for  twenty  days.  He  took  the  body  of  Stephen  from 
the  Tiber,  where  it  had  been  thrown,  declared  his  acts  legal 
and  valid,  and  had  his  body  interred  in  the  Vatican.  John 
IX.  followed  Theodore  in  898.  He  called  a  council  at 


352  The  Ring  and  the  Book. 

Ravenna  of  seventy-four  bishops,  with  Lambert,  who  de- 
clared legal  a  council  previously  held  in  Rome,  that  had 
annulled  Stephen's  acts  against  Formosus.  Then  came 
Sergius  III.  in  904-911,  who  had  been  kept  from  the 
papal  chair  for  many  years  by  John  IX.  This  struggle  of 
the  popes  grew  out  of  a  fierce  effort  to  make  the  emperors 
their  tools.  — Luitprand.  A  chronicler  of  the  period,  who 
wrote  of  this  conflict  of  the  popes  and  emperors,  and  who 
said  that  "  upon  the  dead  body  of  Stephen  being  carried 
into  the  church  it  was  saluted,  as  many  Romans  informed 
him,  by  all  the  Images  of  the  Saints  there." 

391.  Tien.  The  Chinese  name  for  Heaven,  in  the  sense 
of  creator  and  revealer.  —  Sliang-ti.  An  identical  name 
with  the  Chinese  for  God,  or  the  divine  source  of  things. 

395.  Paul  answered  Seneca.  A  reference  to  the  legend 
that  Paul  met  Seneca  in  Rome,  and  that  they  corresponded 
with  each  other. 

399.  Loyola.  The  founder  of  the  Jesuits  or  Society  of 
Jesus. 

424.  Vallombrosa.  The  name  of  a  famous  convent  and 
sanctuary  near  Florence.  See  Hare's  Cities  of  Italy  and 
Jameson's  Legends  of  the  Monastic  Orders. 

428.  Etruscan  monster.  Browning  frequently  refers  to 
the  antiquities  of  ancient  Etruria,  which  are  scattered  all 
through  the  region  described  in  his  poem.  The  region  be- 
tween Rome  and  Florence  was  the  site  of  the  race  who 
preceded  and  were  conquered  by  the  Romans,  and  the  re- 
mains of  whose  artistic  genius  are  numerous  and  remark- 
able. They  are  described  in  many  special  works,  and  they 
have  been  curiously  and  systematically  studied  by  recent 
antiquarians.  Among  the  best  books  on  the  subject  are 
Dennis's  Cities  and  Cemeteries  of  Etruria,  and  Burton's 
Etruscan  Bologna. 

458.  Wormwood  Star.  The  star  which  the  superstition 
of  the  Middle  Ages  thought  appeared  when  death  ap- 
proached. Mentioned  in  Revelation  viii.  11. 

460.  Dogana.  Custom  house.  —  Palchetto  (plural, pal- 
chetti).  Stage  or  scaffold. 

In  his  Stories  from  Browning  Mr.  F.  M.  Holland  turns 
the  poem  into  a  prose  story.  In  her  Browning's  Women 
Miss  Burt  discusses  the  women  of  the  poem  in  her  seventh 


Roland.  —  Rosny.  353 

and  eighth  chapters.     The  Browning  Society's  Papers  give' 
an  essay  by  John  Todhunter  and  discussion  thereon,  1 :  85* ; 
Kingsland's    Robert   Browning  :  Chief  Poet   of  the  Age, 
devotes  some  pages  to  this  poem. 

The  following  magazine  articles  are  worthy  of  attention : 
The  Athenaeum,  Dec.  26,  1868,  and  March  20,  1869, 
Robert  Buchanan,  revised  and  published  in  his  Master- 
Spirits^  1873 ;  The  Christian  Examiner,  John  W.  Chad- 
wick,  86  :  295  ;  Gentleman's  Magazine,  James  Thomson, 
251 :  682 ;  St.  Paul's  Magazine,  E.  J.  Hasell,  7  :  257,  377 ; 
the  same  in  LittelVs  Living  Age,  108  :  771 ;  Macmillan's 
Magazine,  J.  A.  Symonds,  19  :  258,  J.  R.  Mozley,  19  :  544  ; 
North  American  Review,  109  :  279 ;  The  Nation,  8  : 135 ; 
St.  James  Magazine,  23  :  460 ;  The  Fortnightly  Review, 
John  Morley,  11  :  331 ;  The  Dublin  Review,  65  :  48  ;  The 
Edinburgh  Review,  130  : 164;  Poet-Lore,  1 :  263,  309. 

Roland.  The  horse  in  How  they  brought  the  Good 
Neius  from  Ghent  to  Aix. 

Rosny.     Asolando,  1889. 

Rosny  is  a  chateau  on  the  river  Loire,  a  little  below 
Mantes,  in  western  France.  Although  it  is  just  outside  of 
Normandy,  it  is  described  in  Cassell's  Normandy :  Its  His- 
tory, Antiquities,  and  Topography.  "  Rosny  is  a  little 
way  out  of  Mantes  to  the  west,  down  the  river,  and  the  his- 
toric chateau,  built  close  to  the  stream,  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  objects  between  Paris  and  Rouen.  It  is  men- 
tioned as  early  as  1080,  when  Raoul  de  Mauvoisin  was 
seigneur  of  the  domain.  It  afterwards  passed  into  the  house 
of  the  counts  of  Melun,  and  then,  in  1529,  to  Jean  de  Be- 
thune,  grandfather  of  the  great  Sully.  It  continued  in  the 
family  of  this  minister  and  his  descendants  till  1729,  when 
it  was  purchased  by  the  comte  de  Senozan.  The  larger 
part  of  the  mansion  was  built  by  Courtin,  a  counselor  of  the 
Parliament  in  the  reign  of  Henri  III.  ;  but  Sully  added  to 
it,  and  he  had  not  finished  it  in  1610,  when  his  royal  master 
and  friend  was  assassinated.  Many  apartments  are  shown 
as  connected  with  Henri  IV. ;  in  particular  his  bedroom. 
The  whole  is  a  grand  and  interesting  specimen  of  the  seven- 
teenth century." 

In  Sully's  Memoirs,  of  which  there  is  an  English  transla- 
tion, much  is  told  about  the  chateau,  for  he  lived  in  it  dur- 


354  Rosamund  Page.  —  Rudel. 

ing  his  younger  life,  and  his  family  occupied  it  during  the 
civil  wars.  Here  he  was  carried  after  the  battle  of  Ivry, 
which  was  fought  in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  severely 
wounded.  He  was  met  by  Henri,  who  spent  the  night  suc- 
ceeding the  battle  at  the  chateau  ;  and  as  he  lay  on  his  litter 
Henri  dubbed  him  a  knight  for  his  faithful  service.  Dr. 
Furnivall,  president  of  the  London  Browning  Society,  is  of 
the  opinion  that  Browning  invented  both  the  story  and  the 
location  of  the  poem. 

Rosamund  Page.  The  young  girl  in  Martin  Relph, 
sentenced  and  shot  for  treason,  whose  innocence  would  have 
been  proved  by  Vincent  Parkes,  her  lover,  had  Martin  but 
shouted  to  the  soldiers  to  stay  their  guns  until  he  could 
arrive  on  the  scene. 

Round  us  the  -wild  creatures.  The  lyric  following 
the  first  poem  in  Ferisktah's  Fancies  begins  with  these 
words. 

Rudel  to  the  Lady  of  Tripoli.  Dramatic  Lyrics, 
third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1842,  appeared 
as  I.  under  the  general  title  of  Queen-  Worship,  being  called 
Rudel  and  the  Lady  of  Tripoli.  Poems,  1849,  with  pres- 
ent title ;  transferred  to  Men  and  Women,  in  Poetical 
Works,  1863. 

Rudel  was  a  Provencal  troubadour,  and  lived  in  the 
twelfth  century.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  Blieux  in  Pro- 
vence, and  was  presented  to  Frederick  Barbarossa  in  1154. 
His  early  life  was  spent  with  Agoult,  lord  of  Sault,  a  great 
Provencal  lord,  who  patronized  him  as  a  poet  of  ability, 
though  he  is  himself  represented  as  being  a  prince  by  one 
of  the  old  writers.  Count  Geoffrey,  brother  of  Richard  the 
Lion-hearted,  was  much  pleased  with  Rudel.  This  was  seen 
by  Agoult,  who  transferred  the  poet  to  Geoffrey  ;  and  Ru- 
del henceforth  sang  the  praises  of  his  two  lords  and  masters, 
as  one  biographer  expresses  it.  Rudel  accompanied  Geof- 
frey to  England ;  but  he  left  that  Court  in  1162  for  the 
Holy  Land. 

The  Crusaders  who  had  returned  from  the  East  spread 
abroad  wonderful  reports  of  the  beauty,  learning,  and  wit  of 
the  countess  of  Tripoli,  a  small  duchy  lying  on  the  Mediter- 
ranean, to  the  north  of  Palestine.  The  countess  was  of  the 
house  of  Toulouse,  and  ruled  her  small  country  with  success. 


Rudel  to  the  Lady  of  Tripoli.  355 

In  the  spirit  of  the  time  Rudel  became  enamored  of  this 
lady,  although  he  had  never  seen  her  ;  and  he  sang  of  his 
love  and  her  beauty  in  some  of  his  best  songs.  The  stories 
told  of  the  hospitality,  grace,  and  virtue  of  the  countess  in- 
spired these  songs,  and  made  the  poet  indifferent  to  every 
other  interest  than  his  love  for  her.  Before  he  started  for 
the  East  he  wrote  a  poem  marked  by  refinement,  simplicity, 
a  slight  obscurity,  and  frequent  repetitions,  which  Sismondi 
prints  in  his  Literature  of  Southern  Europe,  and  which 
Thomas  Roscoe  translates  into  English. 

ON  DISTANT  LOVE. 

Angry  and  sad  shall  be  my  way, 

If  I  behold  not  her  afar, 
And  yet  I  know  not  when  that  day 

Shall  rise,  for  still  she  dwells  afar. 

God  !  who  hast  formed  this  fair  array 
Of  worlds,  and  placed  my  love  afar, 

Strengthen  my  heart  with  hope,  I  pray, 
Of  seeing  her  I  love  afar. 

O  Lord !  believe  my  faithful  lay, 

For  well  I  love  her  though  afar, 
Though  but  one  blessing  may  repay 

The  thousand  griefs  I  feel  afar. 

No  other  love  shall  shed  its  ray 

On  me,  if  not  this  love  afar, 
A  brighter  one,  where'er  I  stray 

I  shall  not  see,  or  near,  or  far. 

Another  poem  to  the  countess  is  given  in  Rutherford's 
Troubadours,  but  without  the  original  Provengal.  This 
poem  was  written  by  Rudel  immediately  before  setting  out 
for  the  East. 

' '  I  love  —  a  stranger  to  mine  eyes, 

One  to  mine  ears  unknown  ; 

Who  cannot  listen  to  my  sighs, 

Nor  breathe  to  me  her  own ; 

Yet  do  I  feel,  and  would  I  swear, 

That  she  is  lovely,  past  compare. 

"  Beside  my  couch  each  night  she  seems 

A  blessed  watch  to  keep ; 
Then  I  admire  her  in  my  dreams, 

And  love  her  in  my  sleep. 
The  morning  comes  and  she  takes  flight ; 
A  world  divides  her  from  my  sight. 


356  Rudel  to  the  Lady  of  Tripoli. 

"  That  world  I  '11  cross  to  reach  her  gate, 

And  kneel  her  chair  beside. 
The  journey  must  be  fortunate 

Since  Love  will  be  my  guide. 
And  she  shall  know  that,  for  her  sake, 
The  pilgrim's  staff  and  gown  I  take. 

"  Thrice  happy  if  within  her  hall 

She  yield  me  shelter  then ! 
Yea,  I  'd  content  me  as  a  thrall 

Among  the  Saracen  — 
To  breathe  the  air  that  round  her  spreads, 
And  tread  the  blessed  ground  she  treads ! 

"  It  is  resolved  ;  I  cross  the  tide, 

I  leave  my  native  place  ; 
O  God,  transport  me  to  her  side, 

And  let  me  see  her  face  ! 
Grant  me  but  life  that  I  may  tell 
My  tale  to  her  I  love  so  well ! 

"  There  shall  the  minstrels  sing  my  song, 

And  some  its  sense  explain ; 
A  tale  of  love  so  strange  and  strong 

She  cannot  hear  in  vain  ! 
Ah,  should  her  heart  prove  obdurate, 
The  fairies  must  have  warped  my  fate  !  ' ' 

Geoffrey  tried  to  persuade  the  poet  not  to  undertake  the 
journey  to  the  East ;  but  Rudel  set  out  in  a  pilgrim's  garb, 
taking  with  him  as  his  companion  an  intimate  friend  and 
fellow  troubadour,  Bertrand  d'Alamanon.  On  the  voyage 
Rudel  was  attacked  with  a  grievous  malady,  so  that  he  was 
thought  to  be  dead,  and  was  near  being  thrown  overboard. 
He  revived,  however,  so  that  he  reached  the  port  of  Tripoli. 
Then  it  was  reported  to  the  countess  that  he  had  arrived, 
and  as  his  songs  addressed  to  her  had  preceded  him,  she 
went  on  board  the  vessel  where  he  was.  When  Rudel  was 
told  of  her  coining  he  revived,  thanked  her  for  her  kindness, 
said  she  had  restored  him  to  life  by  her  coming,  and  that  he 
was  willing  to  die  having  seen  her.  He  died  in  her  arms ; 
she  gave  him  a  rich  and  honorable  burial  in  a  sepulchre  of 
porphyry,  on  which  she  had  verses  engraved  in  the  Arabic 
language.  One  account  says  the  countess  was  never  cheerful 
afterwards,  and  another  that  she  became  a  nun.  Rudel's 
companion  told  her  of  all  the  virtues  of  that  poet,  who  left 
her  his  poems  and  romances,  which  she  caused  to  be  written 
out  in  fair  gilt  letters. 


St.  John.  —  Saul.  357 

Another  story  is  told  of  Rudel  by  Hueffer  and  Ruther- 
ford, in  their  books  on  the  troubadours,  which  is  much  in 
the  same  spirit  as  this  in  connection  with  the  countess  of 
Tripoli.  He  went  one  day  with  two  other  troubadours  to 
visit  a  great  lady,  who  was  much  of  a  coquette,  and  who 
contrived  to  make  each  of  the  three  believe  that  he  had  won 
her  special  favor.  She  looked  Rudel  sweetly  in  the  face, 
another  she  gave  a  tender  grasp  of  the  hand,  and  the  third 
she  pressed  gently  on  the  foot.  When  they  accidentally  dis- 
covered the  reception  given  them  a  long  debate  ensued  as 
to  who  had  received  the  highest  favor  ;  and  this  important 
question  was  referred  to  a  great  master  of  etiquette  for  set- 
tlement. This  adventure  is  told  in  one  of  the  best  and 
longest  of  the  poems  of  the  troubadours. 

See  Der  Troubadour  Jaufre  Rudel,  sein  Leben  und 
seine  Werke,  by  A.  Stimming,  Keil,  1873 ;  also  the  French 
and  German  writers  on  the  troubadours  and  Provencal  po- 
etry ;  in  English,  Sismondi,  Fauriel,  Hueffer,  and  Ruther- 
ford, but  the  last  is  not  to  be  followed  too  closely;  also 
W.  C.  Bryant's  Prose  Works,  vol.  i.,  essay  on  "  Nostra- 
damus's  Provencal  Poets."  One  of  the  most  interesting 
accounts  of  Rudel  is  in  Mrs.  Jameson's  Loves  of  the 
Poets. 

St.  John.  Described  in  his  last  years,  and  in  the 
manner  of  his  death,  in  A  Death  in  the  Desert.  In  a 
cave  in  the  desert  St.  John  lies  dying,  hid  in  a  time  of  ter- 
rible persecution,  and  surrounded  by  several  of  his  faithful 
disciples.  He  rouses  from  a  condition  of  lethargy  and 
talks  to  his  friends  of  Christ  and  the  true  faith. 

St.  Martin's  Summer.  Pacchiarotto,  with  other 
Poems,  1876. 

Saul.  The  first  nine  stanzas  were  published  in  number 
seven  of  Sells  and  Pomegranates,  called  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances and  Lyrics,  1845  ;  and  concluded  with  "  (End  of 
Part  the  First.)  "  The  same  appeared  in  the  Poems  of 
1849.  The  last  part  was  written  in  Rome  in  1853-54.  The 
second  volume  of  Men  and  Women,  1855,  contained  the 
completed  poem.  Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

This  poem  is  based  on  1  Samuel  xvi.  14  —  23,  where 
Saul  is  described  as  being  troubled  with  an  evil  spirit,  which 
David  drives  away  by  playing  on  his  harp.  David  pre- 


358  Selald. 

bents,   in   the   poem,   three  series  of  motives  to  Saul,  each 
series  rising  higher  than  the  preceding. 
I.  Tunes  played  to  the  brutes. 

1.  To  the  sheep,  in  v. 

2.  To  the  quail,  in  vi. 

3.  To  the  crickets,  in  vi. 

4.  To  the  jerboa,  in  vi. 

IL  The  help-tunes  of  the  great  epochs  in  human  life. 

1.  Reapers,  in  vii. 

2.  Burial,  in  vii. 

3.  Marriage,  in  vii. 

4.  Soldiers,  in  vii. 

5.  Priests,  in  vii. 

IH.  Songs  of  human  aspiration. 

1.  The  wild  joys  of  living,  in  ix. 

2.  The  fame  crowning  ambition  and  deeds,  in  ix. 

3.  The  praise  of  unborn  generations,  in  xiii. 

4.  The  next  world's  reward  and  repose,  in  xvii. 

5.  The  Love  which  is  the  Christ,  in  xviii. 

Miss  H.  E.  Hersey,  in  her  edition  of  Christinas  Eve  and 
Easter  Day  and  Other  Poems,  provides  this  poem  with  an 
introduction,  notes,  and  a  list  of  first  readings.  A  chapter 
is  devoted  to  the  poem  in  J.  T.  Nettleship's  Robert  Broum- 
ing :  Essays  and  Thoughts.  Corson,  in  his  Introduction, 
gives  brief  comments  and  notes.  The  Browning  Society's 
Papers  gives  an  interpretation  by  Anna  M.  Stoddart, 
2  :  264 ;  discussion  thereon,  2  :  264*  ;  also  paper  and  discus- 
sion, 1 : 80*.  Saul  was  published  by  L.  Prang  &  Co., 
Boston,  1890,  with  twenty  full-page  illustrations  in  the 
form  of  photogravures,  by  Frank  O.  Small. 

The  last  four  lines  of  the  ninth  section,  which  ended  the 
first  part  in  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  were  as  follows, 
1845:  — 

"  On  one  head  the  joy  and  the  pride,  even  rage  like  the  throe 
That  opes  the  rock,  helps  its  glad  labor,  and  lets  the  gold  go  — 
And  ambition  that  sees  a  man  lead  it  —  oh,  all  of  these  —  all 
Combine  to  unite  in  one  creature  — Saul !  " 

Sebald.  The  German,  who  has  become  the  lover  of 
Ottima,  and  with  her  has  killed  her  husband,  in  Pippa 
Passes. 


Selections.  359 

Selections.  Browning  made  two  series  of  selections 
from  his  own  poems,  and  one  from  those  of  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing, that  deserve  to  be  noticed  as  indications  of  his  own 
judgment  on  his  minor  poems,  and  because  of  the  prefaces. 

In  1866  Browning  made  a  selection  of  the  minor  poems 
of  Mrs.  Browning,  which  was  published  by  Chapman  & 
Hall  as  A  Selection  from  the  Poetry  of  Elizabeth  Barrett 
Browning.  He  wrote  for  it  the  following  preface  :  — 

"  It  has  been  attempted  to  retain  and  to  dispose  the 
characteristics  of  the  general  poetry,  whence  this  is  an  ab- 
stract, —  according  to  an  order  which  should  allow  them  the 
prominency  and  effect  they  seem  to  possess  when  considered 
in  the  larger,  not  exclusively  the  lesser  works  of  the  poet. 
A  musician  might  say,  such  and  such  chords  are  repeated, 
others  made  subordinate  by  distribution,  so  that  a  single 
movement  may  imitate  the  progress  of  the  whole  symphony. 
But  there  are  various  ways  of  modulating  up  to  and  con- 
necting any  given  harmonies  ;  and  it  will  be  neither  a  sur- 
prise nor  a  pain  to  find  that  better  could  have  been  done,  as 
to  both  selection  and  sequence,  than,  in  the  present  case,  all 
care  and  the  profoundest  veneration  were  able  to  do. 

"  London,  November,  1865.  R.  B." 

The  first  of  the  two  volumes  of  selections  from  his  own 
poems  bore  this  title-page :  Selections  from  the  Poetwal 
Works  of  Robert  Browning.  London :  Smith,  Elder  & 
Co.,  15,  Waterloo  Place.  1872.  Pages,  i.-xii.,  1-348. 
Dedicated  to  Alfred  Tennyson.  In  Poetry  —  Illustrious 
and  consummate :  In  Friendship  —  Noble  and  sincere. 

The  preface  is  an  interesting  indication  of  Browning's 
f eeling  about  his  own  poetry  :  — 

"  In  the  present  selection  from  my  poetry,  there  is  an 
attempt  to  escape  from  the  embarrassment  of  appearing  to 
pronounce  upon  what  myself  may  consider  the  best  of  it. 
I  adopt  another  principle  ;  and  by  simply  stringing  together 
certain  pieces  on  the  thread  of  an  imagined  personality,  I 
present  them  in  succession,  rather  as  the  natural  develop- 
ment of  a  particular  experience  than  because  I  account  them 
the  most  noteworthy  portion  of  my  work.  Such  an  attempt 
was  made  in  the  volume  of  selections  from  the  poetry  of 


360  Selections. 

Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning :  to  which  —  in  outward  uni- 
formity, at  least  —  nay  own  would  venture  to  become  a 
companion. 

"  A  few  years  ago,  had  such  an  opportunity  presented 
itself,  I  might  have  been  tempted  to  say  a  word  in  reply  to 
the  objections  my  poetry  was  used  to  encounter.  Time  has 
kindly  cooperated  with  my  disinclination  to  write  the  poetry 
and  the  criticism  besides.  The  readers  I  am  at  last  priv- 
ileged to  expect,  meet  me  fully  half-way  ;  and  if,  from  the 
fitting  stand-point,  they  must  still  '  censure  me  in  their 
wisdom,'  they  have  previously  '  awakened  their  senses 
that  they  may  the  better  judge.'  Nor  do  I  apprehend  any 
more  charges  of  being  willfully  obscure,  unconscientiously 
careless,  or  perversely  harsh.  Having  hitherto  done  my 
utmost  in  the  art  to  which  my  life  is  a  devotion,  I  cannot 
engage  to  increase  the  effort ;  but  I  conceive  that  there  may 
be  helpful  light,  as  well  as  reassuring  warmth,  in  the  atten- 
tion and  sympathy  I  gratefully  acknowledge. 

«  London,  May  14,  1872.  R.  B." 

The  contents  of  this  volume  are  mainly  the  same  as  a 
volume  of  selections  published  in  Moxom's  Miniature 
Poets,  1865,  which  was  probably  made  by  Browning  him- 
self. They  are  as  follows  :  My  Star ;  A  Face ;  My  Last 
Duchess  ;  Song  from  Pippa  Passes  (Give  her  but  a  least 
excuse)  ;  Cristina  ;  Count  Gismond  ;  Eurydice  to  Orpheus ; 
The  Glove ;  Song  (Nay  but  you)  ;  A  Serenade  at  the 
Villa ;  Youth  and  Art ;  The  Flight  of  the  Duchess ;  Song 
from  Pippa  Passes  (The  year 's  at  the  Spring)  ;  How 
they  brought  the  Good  News  from  Ghent  to  Aix  ;  Song 
from  Paracelsus  (Heap  cassia,  sandal-buds  and  stripes)  ; 
Through  the  Metidja  to  Abd-el-Kader ;  Incident  of  the 
French  Camp ;  The  Lost  Leader  ;  In  a  Gondola  ;  A  Lov- 
er's Quarrel ;  Earth's  Immortalities  ;  The  Last  Ride  To- 
gether ;  Mesmerism  ;  By  the  Fireside  ;  Any  Wife  to  Any 
Husband  ;  In  a  Year ;  Song  from  James  Lee  (VII.)  ;  A 
Woman's  Last  Word  ;  Meeting  at  Night ;  Parting  at  Morn- 
ing ;  Women  and  Roses  ;  Misconceptions  ;  A  Pretty  Wo- 
man ;  A  Light  Woman  ;  Love  in  a  Life ;  Life  in  a  Love  ; 
The  Laboratory ;  Gold  Hair ;  The  Statue  and  the  Bust ; 
Love  among  the  Ruins  ;  Time's  Revenges  ;  Waring  ;  Home 


Selections.  361 

Thoughts,  from  Abroad ;  The  Italian  in  England ;  The 
Englishman  in  Italy  ;  Up  at  a  Villa  —  Down  in  the  City  ; 
Pictor  Ignotus  ;  Fra  Lippo  Lippi ;  Andrea  del  Sarto  ;  The 
Bishop  orders  his  Tomb  at  Saint  Praxed's  Church  ;  A  Toc- 
cata of  Galuppi's  ;  How  it  strikes  a  Contemporary ;  Protus ; 
Master  Hugues  of  Saxe-Gotha ;  Abt  Vogler ;  Two  in  the 
Campagna ;  "  De  Gustibus  —  "  ;  The  Guardian- An  gel ;  Ev- 
elyn Hope  ;  Memorabilia  ;  Apparent  Failure  ;  Prospice  ; 
"  Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came  "  ;  A  Grammari- 
an's Funeral ;  Cleon  ;  Instans  Tyrannus  ;  An  Epistle  (Kar- 
shish)  ;  Caliban  upon  Setebos ;  Saul ;  Rabbi  ben  Ezra ; 
Epilogue  (to  Dramatis  Personce). 

The  Second  Series  appeared  with  the  following  title- 
page  :  Selections  from  the  Poetical  Works  of  Robert  Brown- 
ing. Second  Series.  London :  Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  15, 
Waterloo  Place.  1880.  Contents  :  A  Wall ;  Apparitions  ; 
Natural  Magic  ;  Magical  Nature  ;  Garden  Fancies,  I.,  II. ; 
In  Three  Days  ;  The  Lost  Mistress  ;  One  Way  of  Love ; 
Rudel  to  the  Lady  of  Tripoli ;  Numpholeptos ;  Appear- 
ances ;  The  Worst  of  it ;  Too  Late  ;  Bifurcation  ;  A  Like- 
ness ;  May  and  Death  ;  A  Forgiveness  ;  Cenciaja  ;  Porphy- 
ria's  Lover  ;  Filippo  Baldinucci  on  the  Privilege  of  Burial ; 
Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister  (G-r-r)  ;  The  Heretic's 
Tragedy ;  Holy-Cross  Day  ;  Amphibian  ;  Saint  Martin's 
Summer ;  James  Lee's  Wife  ;  Respectability ;  Dis  Alitur 
Visum  ;  Confessions  ;  The  Householder  ;  Tray  ;  Cavalier 
Tunes,  I.,  II.,  III. ;  Before  ;  After ;  Herve"  Riel ;  In  a 
Balcony ;  Old  Pictures  in  Florence ;  Bishop  Blougram's 
Apology  ;  Mr.  Sludge,  "  The  Medium  "  ;  The  Boy  and  the 
Angel ;  A  Death  in  the  Desert ;  Fears  and  Scruples  ;  Arte- 
mis Prologizes  ;  Pheidippides ;  The  Patriot ;  Pisgah-Sights, 
1,  2,  3  ;  At  the  "  Mermaid  "  ;  House  ;  Shop  ;  A  Tale. 

At  about  the  time  Browning  wrote,  in  the  preface  to  the 
First  Series  of  Selections,  that  he  did  not  apprehend  any 
more  charges  of  being  willfully  obscure,  he  wrote  to  a 
friend  :  "  I  can  have  little  doubt  that  my  writing  has  been 
in  the  main  too  hard  for  many  I  should  have  been  pleased 
to  communicate  with ;  but  I  never  designedly  tried  to 
puzzle  people,  as  some  of  my  critics  have  supposed.  On 
the  other  hand,  I  never  pretended  to  offer  such  literature 
as  should  be  a  substitute  for  a  cigar  or  a  game  at  domi- 


362  A  Serenade  at  the  Villa.  —  Shop. 

noes  to  an  idle  man.  So  perhaps,  on  the  whole,  I  get  my 
deserts,  and  something  over  —  not  a  crowd,  but  a  few  I 
value  more." 

Much  to  the  same  effect  is  the  letter  which  Browning 
wrote  to  Mr.  Edmund  Yates,  on  the  occasion  of  the  forma- 
tion of  the  Browning  Society  in  London  :  "  The  Browning 
Society,  I  need  not  say,  as  well  as  Browning  himself,  are 
fair  game  for  criticism.  I  had  no  more  to  do  with  the 
founding  of  it  than  the  babe  unborn  ;  and,  as  Wilkes  was 
no  Wilkesite,  I  am  quite  other  than  a  Browningite.  But  I 
cannot  wish  harm  to  a  society  of,  with  a  few  exceptions, 
names  unknown  to  me,  who  are  busied  about  my  books  so 
disinterestedly.  The  exaggerations  probably  come  of  the 
fifty-years'-long  charge  of  unintelligibility  against  my  books  ; 
such  reactions  are  possible,  though  I  never  looked  for  the 
beginning  of  one  so  soon.  That  there  is  a  grotesque  side 
to  the  thing  is  certain ;  but  I  have  been  surprised  and 
touched  by  what  cannot  but  have  been  well  intentioned,  I 
think.  Anyhow,  as  I  never  felt  inconvenienced  by  hard 
words,  you  will  not  expect  me  to  wax  bumptious  because 
of  undue  compliment :  so  enough  of  '  Browning,'  —  except 
that  he  is  yours  very  truly,  '  while  this  machine  is  to  him.' " 

Serenade  at  the  Villa,  A.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Setebos.  The  god  of  Caliban,  in  Caliban  upon  Setebos, 
"  who  dwelleth  in  the  cold  of  the  moon,"  and  who  is  subordi- 
nate to  the  great  Quiet. 

Shah  Abbas.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

Shah  Abbas,  called  The  Great,  was  the  ruler  of  Persia 
from  1584  until  his  death  in  1628.  He  conquered  the  Turks 
in  1605,  and  thereby  added  to  his  possessions.  He  was  a 
man  of  ability  and  great  energy  of  character.  In  this  poem 
his  name  is  used  fictitiously,  for  it  is  not  historical  that  he 
did  what  is  here  attributed  to  him.  —  Zal  is  a  character  in 
the  Shah  Nameh,  as  is  also  Tahmasp ;  but  the  story  told 
of  the  latter  is  fictitious.  —  Ishak  son  of  Absal  is  a  ficti- 
tious character,  the  invention  of  the  poet.  —  A  Mubid  is  a 
Persian  magician.  These  men  are  frequently  mentioned  in 
the  Shah  Nameh. 

Shop.     Pacchiarotto,  with  other  Poems,  1876. 

Intended  as  a  companion  poem  to  House,  and  shows  why 
literature  should  not  be  pursued  for  money-making. 


Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister.          363 

Sibrandus  Schafnaburgensis.    See  Garden  Flowers. 

Sighed  Rawdon  Brown.  Mr.  Ravvdon  Brown  was 
an  Englishman  who  went  to  Venice  on  some  temporary 
errand,  and  lived  there  for  forty  years,  dying  in  that  city 
in  the  summer  of  1883.  He  had  an  enthusiastic  love  for 
Venice,  and  is  mentioned  in  books  of  travel  as  one  who 
knew  the  city  thoroughly.  His  love  was  described  in  a 
sonnet  written  by  Browning  at  the  request  of  Mrs.  Brown- 
son,  who  published  it  in  The  Century  for  February,  1884, 
with  Browning's  permission.  It  was  reprinted  in  number 
five  of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  1 : 132*.  The 
Venetian  saying  means  that  "  everybody  follows  his  taste 
and  I  follow  mine."  Toni  was  the  gondolier  and  attendant 
of  Brown.  The  inscription  on  Brown's  tomb  is  given  in  the 
third  and  fourth  lines. 

"  Tutti  ga  i  80  gusti,  e  mi  go  i  mii." 

(Venetian  saying.) 

Sighed  Rawdon  Brown :   ' '  Yes,  I  'm  departing,  Toni ! 
I  needs  must,  just  this  once  before  I  die, 
Revisit  England :  Anglus  Brown  am  I, 
Although  my  heart 's  Venetian.     Yes,  old  crony  — 
Venice  and  London  —  London 's  '  Death  the  bony  ' 
Compared  with  Life  —  that 's  Venice !     What  a  sky, 
A  sea,  this  morning  !     One  last  look  !     Good-bye, 
Ca  Pesaro !     No,  lion  —  I  'm  a  coney 

To  weep  !     I  'm  dazzled  ;  't  is  that  sun  I  view 

Rippling  the  .  .  .  the  .  .  .  Cospetto,  Toni !     Down 

With  carpet-bag,  and  off  with  valise-straps ! 
Bella  Venezia,  non  ti  lascio  piu  !  " 

Nor  did  Brown  ever  leave  her  :  well,  perhaps 
Browning,  next  week,  may  find  himself  quite  Brown ! 
Nov.  28,  '83. 

Sir  De  Lorge.  In  The  Glove,  the  knight  in  the  Court 
of  Francis  I.  of  France,  who,  when  his  lady  drops  her 
glove  among  the  lions,  risks  his  life  to  hand  it  back  to  her, 
and  then  rejects  her  love. 

Soliloquy  of  the  Spanish  Cloister.  Published  in 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegran- 
ates, 1842.  It  there  appeared  as  follows :  "  Camp  and 
Cloister.  I.  Camp  (French).  II.  Cloister  (Spanish)."  The 
first  of  these  poems  was  subsequently  published  as  Incident 
of  the  French  Camp;  and  the  second  as  the  Soliloquy  of 
the  Spanish  Cloister ;  they  so  appeared  in  the  Poems  of 


364  Song.  —  Solomon  and  Balkis. 

1849.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  the  Soliloquy  was 
printed  as  III.  of  Garden  Fancies,  among  the  Lyrics.  In 
the  Poetical  Works  of  1868  it  appeared  by  itself  among  the 
Dramatic  Lyrics  ;  and  it  has  held  that  place  since. 

The  poem  is  based  on  no  special  incident ;  but  it  gives  a 
very  correct  picture  of  cloister  life  as  Browning  must  have 
come  to  know  of  it  in  his  extensive  reading,  especially  of 
cloister  life  in  the  Middle  Ages.  The  Great  text  in  Ga- 
latians  refers  to  chapter  v.  19-21,  which  mentions  "  the 
works  of  the  flesh,"  which  are  seventeen  as  Paul  enumerates 
them.  The  French  use  trente-six  for  any  moderately  large 
number,  and  Browning  uses  "  twenty-nine  "  in  this  sense. 

Song  :  Nay  but  you  who  do  not  love  her.  First 
published  in  Dramatic  Romances  and  Lyrics,  seventh  num- 
ber of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  1845.  Lyrics,  1863 ; 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868.  This  song  has  been  set  to  music 
by  E.  C.  Gregory  ;  London,  Novello,  Ewer  &  Co. 

Solomon  and  Balkis.     Jocoseria,  1883. 

The  Balkis  of  Arabian  and  Mohammedan  legend  is  the 
Queen  of  Sheba,  described  in  1  Kings  x.  2,  and  2  Chron- 
icles ix.  1.  One  set  of  legends  say  the  queen  who  visited 
Solomon  from  the  south  was  from  Abyssinia,  that  she  came 
from  Meroe',  that  her  name  was  Makeda,  and  that  she  bore 
a  son  to  Solomon.  The  Arabic  legends  make  Sheba  to  be 
Sabaea,  they  call  the  queen  Balkis,  and  they  make  her  a 
woman  of  great  wit  and  wisdom.  She  was  quite  the  equal 
of  Solomon  in  the  answering  of  riddles,  for  that  comprised 
a  large  pait  of  his  great  wisdom.  The  dark  sayings  of  the 
wise,  as  the  writer  of  Proverbs  calls  them,  formed  a  favorite 
amusement  of  Solomon,  and  fame  has  given  him  the  greatest 
skill  in  untangling  them.  It  is  said  by  legend  that  he  car- 
ried on  these  contests  with  the  riddle  daily  with  Hiram  of 
Tyre,  and  that  he  was  the  victor  until  Hiram  found  a  Tyr- 
ian  boy  who  could  outwit  even  the  wise  Solomon. 

The  legend  of  Balkis  has  been  drawn  out  to  great  length 
in  the  Rabbinical  writings  and  in  Mohammedan  story.  Es- 
pecially in  the  Mohammedan  legends  which  have  grown  up 
out  of  the  Old  Testament  narratives  has  Balkis  found  a 
prominent  place.  As  she  is  there  found  she  is  a  person 
of  much  importance,  and  marvelous  are  the  tales  told  of 
her.  These  accounts  have  been  collected  by  Weil  in  his 


Solomon  and  Balkis.  365 

Biblische  Legende.  Some  idea  of  them  may  be  had  from 
Baring-Gould's  Legends  of  the  Patriarchs  and  Prophets, 
and  Stanley's  History  of  the  Jewish  Church. 

According  to  legend,  when  Balkis  sent  five  hundred  boys 
and  girls  to  Solomon  dressed  exactly  alike,  he  guessed 
their  sex  by  the  manner  in  which  they  washed  their  hands. 
When  she  asked  for  water  that  came  neither  from  heaven 
nor  earth  he  sent  a  huge  slave  to  race  a  horse  about  the 
court  until  the  perspiration  poured  from  him,  and  this  the 
slave  collected  in  the  goblet  to  be  filled.  When  she  sent 
him  natural  and  artificial  flowers  so  nearly  alike  no  one 
could  detect  the  true  flowers,  Solomon  opened  the  window 
to  permit  the  bees  to  come  in  to  decide  for  him. 

Browning  attempts  to  report  what  maybe  "supposed"  to 
have  been  the  conversation  between  these  two  when  Solomon 
answered  "all  the  questions"  of  Balkis,  as  he  is  said  to 
have  done  by  the  writer  of  the  Book  of  Kings.  The  con- 
versation is  not  historical,  and  it  is  not  even  drawn  from  the 
legends. 

In  Polano's  Selections  from  the  Talmud  is  the  following 
account  of  the  visit  of  the  queen  of  Sheba  to  Solomon :  — 

"  All  the  kingdoms  congratulated  Solomon  as  the  worthy 
successor  of  his  father,  David,  whose  fame  was  great  among 
the  nations ;  all  save  one,  the  kingdom  of  Sheba,  the  capital 
of  which  was  called  Kitore.  To  this  kingdom  Solomon 
sent  a  letter :  '  From  me,  King  Solomon,  peace  to  thee 
and  to  thy  government.  Let  it  be  known  to  thee  that  the 
Almighty  God  has  made  me  to  reign  over  the  whole  earth, 
the  kingdoms  of  the  North,  the  South,  the  East,  and  the 
West.  Lo,  they  have  come  to  me  with  their  congratulations, 
all  save  thee  alone.  Come  thou  also,  I  pray  thee,  and  sub- 
mit to  my  authority,  and  much  honor  shall  be  done  thee  ; 
but  if  thou  refusest,  behold,  I  shall  by  force  compel  thy 
acknowledgment.  To  thee,  Queen  Sheba,  is  addressed  this 
letter  in  peace  from  me,  King  Solomon,  the  son  of  David.' 

"  Now  when  Queen  «Sheba  received  this  letter,  she  sent  in 
haste  for  her  elders  and  counselors  to  ask  their  advice  as 
to  the  nature  of  her  reply.  They  spoke  but  lightly  of  the 
message  and  of  the  one  who  sent  it ;  but  the  queen  did  not 
regard  their  words.  She  sent  a  vessel  carrying  many 
presents  of  different  metals,  minerals,  and  precious  stones, 


366  Solomon  and  Balkis. 

to  Solomon.  It  was  after  a  voyage  of  two  years'  time  that 
these  presents  arrived  at  Jerusalem,  and  in  a  letter  intrusted 
to  the  captain  the  queen  said,  '  After  thou  hast  received  the 
message  then  I  myself  will  come  to  thee.'  [In  the  Moham- 
medan legends  the-  account  of  this  embassy  is  much  more 
extended  ;  and  it  was  in  pursuance  of  the  instructions  of 
the  queen  that  Solomon  was  tested  at  this  time,  in  the  man- 
ner already  mentioned,  as  to  the  sex  of  five  hundred  boys 
and  girls,  and  as  to  whether  he  could  procure  water  that 
came  neither  from  heaven  nor  earth.]  And  in  two  years 
after  this  time  Queen  Sheba  arrived  at  Jerusalem. 

"  When  Solomon  heard  that  the  queen  was  coming  he  sent 
Benayahu,  the  son  of  Yehoyadah,  the  general  of  his  army, 
to  meet  her.  When  the  queen  saw  him  she  thought  he  was 
the  king,  and  she  alighted  from  her  carriage.  Then  Bena- 
yahu asked, '  Why  alightest  thou  from  thy  carriage  ? '  And 
she  answered,  '  Art  thou  not  his  majesty,  the  king  ?  '  '  No,' 
replied  Benayahu,  '  I  am  but  one  of  his  officers.'  Then  the 
queen  turned  back  and  said  to  her  ladies  in  attendance,  '  If 
this  is  but  one  of  the  officers,  and  he  is  so  noble  and  im- 
posing in  appearance,  how  great  must  be  his  superior,  the 
king.'  And  Benayahu,  the  son  of  Yehoyadah,  conducted 
Queen  Sheba  to  the  palace  of  the  king. 

"  Solomon  prepared  to  receive  his  visitor  in  an  apartment 
laid  and  lined  with  glass,  and  the  queen  at  first  was  so  de- 
ceived by  the  appearance  that  she  imagined  the  king  to  be 
sitting  in  water.  And  when  the  queen  had  tested  Solomon's 
wisdom  [by  means  of  riddles  and  display  of  wit],  and  wit- 
nessed his  magnificence,  she  said :  '  I  believed  not  what  I 
heard,  but  now  I  have  come,  and  my  eyes  have  seen  it  all ; 
behold,  the  half  has  not  been  told  me.  Happy  are  thy 
servants  who  stand  before  thee  continually  to  listen  to  thy 
words  of  wisdom.  Blessed  be  the  Lord  thy  God,  who  hath 
placed  thee  on  a  throne  to  rule  righteously  and  in  justice.' 
When  other  kingdoms  heard  the  words  of  the  queen  of 
Sheba  they  feared  Solomon  exceedingly,  and  he  became 
greater  than  all  the  other  kings  of  the  earth  in  wisdom  and 
in  wealth." 

In  Jami's  Salamdn  and  Absal,  as  translated  by  Edward 
Fitzgerald,  the  legend  of  Solomon  and  Balkis  is  treated  as 
follows  :  — 


Sonnet.  —  Sordello.  367 

"  Once  upon  the  Throne  together 
Telling  one  another  Secrets 
Sate  Sulayman  and  Balkis ; 
The  Hearts  of  both  were  turn'd  to  Truth, 
Unsullied  by  Deception. 
First  the  King  of  Faith  Sulayman 

Spoke  —  '  However  just  and  wise 
Reported,  none  of  all  the  many 
Suitors  to  my  palace  thronging 

But  afar  I  scrutinize  ; 
And  He  who  comes  not  empty-handed 

Grows  to  Honor  in  mine  Eyes. ' 
After  this,  Balkis  a  Secret 
From  her  hidden  bosom  utter' d, 
Saying  — '  Never  night  or  morning 
Comely  Youth  before  me  passes 
Whom  I  look  not  after,  longing.'  " 

There  is  no  reason  for  supposing  that  Solomon  spoke 
Greek,  as  Browning  makes  him  do.  The  word  conster 
means  construe,  and  is  frequently  to  be  found  in  Shake- 
speare and  early  English  writers.  The  conversation  of  the 
poem  contains  an  amount  of  humor  such  as  does  not  appear 
in  the  Talmudic  or  other  legends. 

Sonnet.  The  several  poems  contributed  by  Browning 
to  The  Monthly  Repository,  edited  by  W.  J.  Fox,  were  all 
reprinted  by  him  with  one  exception,  which  appeared  in 
1834,  New  Series,  vol.  viii.  p.  712.  This  sonnet  is  reprinted 
verbatim  in  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  part  xii. :  — 

"Eyes,  calm  beside  thee,  (Lady  could'st  thou  know!) 

May  turn  away  thick  with  fast-gathering  tears : 
I  glance  not  where  all  gaze  :  thrilling  and  low 

Their  passionate  praises  reach  thee  —  my  cheek  wears 
Alone  no  wonder  when  thou  passest  by  ; 
Thy  tremulous  lids  bent  and  suffused  reply 
To  the  irrepressible  homage  which  doth  glow 

On  every  lip  but  mine  :   if  in  thine  ears 
Their  accents  linger  —  and  thou  dost  recall 

Me  as  I  stood,  still,  guarded,  very  pale, 
Beside  each  votarist  whose  lighted  brow 
Wore  worship  like  an  aureole,  '  O'er  them  all 

'  My  beauty, '  thou  wilt  murmur,  '  did  prevail 
'  Save  that  one  only :  '  —  Lady  could'st  thou  know ! 
August  17,  1834.  Z." 

Bordello.  This  poem  was  begun  in  1836,  and  was  then 
laid  aside  in  order  to  write  Strafford.  It  was  published  by 
Edward  Moxon,  Dover  Street,  1840.  Pages,  i.-iv.,  1-253, 


368  '    Sordello. 

post  8vo.  Reprinted  in  Poetical  Works,  1863,  in  revised 
form,  with  dedication  to  J.  Milsand,  which  has  been  retained 
in  all  subsequent  editions. 

The  severest  charges  of  obscurity  were  brought  against 
the  poem  as  at  first  published.  One  of  these  is  given  in 
Thomas  Powell's  Living  Authors  of  England  in  the  follow- 
ing form :  "  Douglas  Jerrold  was  recruiting  himself  at 
Brighton  after  a  long  illness.  In  the  progress  of  his  con- 
valescence a  parcel  arrived  from  London,  which  contained, 
among  other  things,  this  new  volume  of  Sordello  ;  the  med- 
ical attendant  had  forbidden  Mr.  Jerrold  the  luxury  of  read- 
ing, but  owing  to  the  absence  of  his  conjugal  '  life  guards  ' 
he  indulged  in  the  illicit  enjoyment.  A  few  lines  put  Jer- 
rold in  a  state  of  alarm.  Sentence  after  sentence  brought 
no  consecutive  thought  to  his  brain.  At  last  the  idea  crossed 
his  mind  that  in  his  illness  his  mental  faculties  had  been 
wrecked.  The  perspiration  rolled  from  his  forehead,  and 
smiting  his  head,  he  sat  down  in  his  sofa,  crying,  '  O  God,  I 
am  an  idiot ! '  When  his  wife  and  sister  came,  they  were 
amused  by  his  pushing  the  volume  into  their  hands,  and 
demanding  what  they  thought  of  it.  He  watched  them 
intently  while  they  read  —  at  last  his  wife  said  :  '  I  don't 
understand  what  the  man  means  ;  it  is  gibberish.'  The  de- 
lighted humorist  sank  in  his  seat  again :  '  Thank  God,  I  am 
not  an  idiot.'  Mr.  Browning,  to  whom  we  told  this,  has 
often  laughed  over  it,  and  then  endeavored  to  show  that 
Sordello  was  the  clearest  and  most  simple  poem  in  the  Eng- 
lish language."  This  experience  it  was,  perhaps,  which 
made  Jerrold  say  of  Browning's  style,  that  he  "  wrote 
Greek  in  shorthand." 

It  has  been  reported  that  Tennyson  said  that  he  could 
understand  only  the  first  and  last  lines  of  the  poem,  and 
that  they  were  both  lies.  "  My  wife,"  wrote  Carlyle,  "has 
read  through  Sordello  without  being  able  to  make  out 
whether  Sordello  was  a  man,  or  a  city,  or  a  book." 

Such  criticisms  as  these,  and  others  of  a  similar  charac- 
ter, which  were  put  into  print,  led  Browning  to  consider  the 
advisability  of  rewriting  the  poem,  with  the  object  of  mak- 
ing it  more  comprehensible.  He  finally  decided  that  this 
could  not  be  done  to  his  own  satisfaction  ;  but  he  carefully 
revised  it,  rewriting  lines  here  and  there,  and  he  summa- 


Bordello.  369 

rized  the  contents  of  the  poem  in  a  continuous  series  of  head- 
lines, which  give  the  main  thread  of  the  story.  In  the 
dedication  to  the  revised  edition  Browning  refers  to  the 
criticisms,  and  to  his  thought  of  rewriting  the  poem  :  "  I 
wrote  it  twenty-five  years  ago  for  only  a  few,  counting  even 
in  these  on  somewhat  more  care  about  its  subject  than  they 
really  had.  My  own  faults  of  expression  were  many ;  but 
with  care  for  a  man  or  book  such  would  be  surmounted,  and 
without  it  what  avails  the  faultlessness  of  either  ?  I  blame 
nobody,  least  of  all  myself,  who  did  my  best  then  and  since  ; 
for  I  lately  gave  time  and  pains  to  turn  my  work  into  what 
the  many  might  —  instead  of  what  the  few  must  —  like  ;  but 
after  all,  I  imagined  another  thing  at  first,  and  therefore 
leave  as  I  find  it."  Concerning  the  revised  edition  Brown- 
ing wrote  to  a  friend,  protesting  against  the  statement  that 
he  had  rewritten  the  poem,  or  that  he  had  made  any  essen- 
tial change  in  it :  — 

"  I  do  not  understand  what can  mean  by  saying 

that  Sordello  has  been  '  rewritten.'  I  did  certainly  at  one 
time  intend  to  rewrite  much  of  it,  but  changed  my  mind,  — 
and  the  edition  which  I  reprinted  was  the  same  in  all  re- 
spects as  its  predecessors  —  only  with  an  elucidatory  head- 
ing to  each  page,  and  some  few  alterations,  presumably  for 
the  better,  in  the  text,  such  as  occur  in  most  of  my  works. 
I  cannot  remember  a  single  instance  of  any  importance  that 
is  rewritten,  and  I  only  suppose  that has  taken  pro- 
ject for  performance,  and  set  down  as  '  done  '  what  was  for 
a  while  intended  to  be  done." 

In  the  sixth  canto  of  Dante's  Purgatorio  Sordello  ap- 
pears, and  is  made  the  guide  of  Virgil  and  his  companion. 
The  shade  of  Sordello  is  described  as  being  silent  and 
watchful :  — 

"  Nothing  whatever  did  it  say  to  us, 

But  let  us  go  our  way,  eyeing  us  only 

After  the  manner  of  a  couchant  lion ; 
Still  near  to  it  Virgilius  drew,  entreating 

That  it  would  point  us  out  the  best  ascent ; 

And  it  replied  not  unto  his  demand, 
But  of  our  native  land  and  of  our  life 

It  questioned  us ;  and  the  sweet  Guide  began : 

'  Mantua,'  —  and  the  shade,  all  in  itself  recluse, 
Rose  tow'rds  him  from  the  place  where  first  it  was, 


370  Sordello. 

Saying :   '  0  Mantuan,  I  am  Sordello 

Of  thine  own  land ! '  and  one  embraced  the  other. 

That  noble  soul  was  so  impatient,  only 

At  the  sweet  sound  of  his  own  native  land, 
To  make  its  citizen  glad  welcome  there." 

Dante  thus  honors  Sordello  because  that  poet  had  pre- 
ceded him  in  the  attempt  to  establish  a  vernacular  Italian 
speech  as  a  medium  of  literary  expression.  For  the  same 
cause  he  described  Sordello  in  his  De  Vulyari  Eloquio  as 
"  a  man  so  choice  in  his  language,  that  not  only  in  his  poems, 
but  in  whatever  way  he  spoke,  he  abandoned  the  dialect  of 
his  province."  Sordello  lived  during  the  first  part  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  he  was  a  poet,  a  troubadour,  a  sol- 
dier by  profession,  and  a  politician  of  some  ability.  Little 
is  now  known  about  him,  and  that  little  is  much  obscured 
by  tradition  and  legend.  It  is  probable  that  two  persons 
have  in  some  way  been  mixed  together  in  the  accounts 
given  of  him.  One  of  these  persons  was  a  poet,  and  the 
other  was  a  man  of  action  and  political  intrigue. 

Browning  evidently  studied  whatever  was  written  about 
Sordello  by  the  chroniclers  ;  but  he  has  not  undertaken  to  un- 
riddle the  biographical  difficulties  which  surround  his  name. 
Whatever  would  best  serve  his  purpose  in  the  traditions  he 
has  used  ;  but  he  has  not  tried  to  be  consistent  with  histor- 
ical probability.  He  makes  Sordello  the  supposed  son  of 
an  archer,  El  Corte  by  name,  and  he  has  been  brought  up 
at  the  castle  of  Goito,  by  Adelaide,  the  wife  of  Eccelin  of 
Romano.  In  the  first  book  the  life  of  Sordello  at  Goito  is 
described ;  and  his  failure  as  a  troubadour  is  set  forth  in 
the  second.  In  the  third  book  Sordello  journeys  to  Verona, 
and  Palma  declares  her  love  for  him.  He  then  becomes  her 
minstrel  and  her  devoted  lover.  In  the  fourth  book  the  hor- 
rors of  civil  war  are  described,  and  their  effect  on  Sordello 
in  making  him  desert  the  Ghibelline  cause,  which  had  the 
devotion  of  his  lady  love.  The  fifth  book  discloses  the  true 
birth  of  Sordello,  and  he  finds  his  father  in  Salinguerra, 
the  great  Ghibelline  chief  and  politician.  Through  his  con- 
nection with  Palma  it  is  now  made  possible  for  Sordello  to 
become  the  head  of  all  of  Northern  Italy.  The  last  book 
shows  him  struggling  between  the  ambition  of  leadership, 
which  he  can  now  gratify,  and  the  conviction  of  his  heart 


Sordello.  371 

that  the  popular  cause  is  the  true  one  and  the  one  he  ought 
to  support.  At  last  he  makes  the  sacrifice  ;  but  the  attempt 
is  too  much  for  him,  and  he  dies  before  it  is  fairly  accom- 
plished. 

In  her  little  book  on  Sordello,  Mrs.  Caroline  H.  Dall  has 
given  the  fullest  account  yet  published  in  English  of  what 
there  is  that  may  be  known  about  the  poet,  as  his  history  is 
told  by  Italian  writers.  Her  historical  account  of  Sordello 
is  founded  on  materials  discovered  by  her  in  the  library  of 
the  Canadian  Parliament,  both  printed  books  and  manu- 
scripts. These  have  since  been  burned,  and  are  said  to 
have  belonged  to  one  of  the  early  Jesuit  explorers. 

"  In  Aliprando's  fabulous  History  of  Milan  we  find  long 
stories  of  Sordello,  borrowed,  doubtless,  from  still  older 
sources,  and  stealing  out  of  his  verses  into  the  solemn  Latin 
prose  of  Platina's  History  of  Mantua.  There  we  are  told 
that  Sordello  was  born  into  the  Visconti  family,  at  Goito,  in 
Mantua,  in  1189.  A  mere  boy,  he  startled  the  world  of  let- 
ters by  a  poem,  called  Tresor.  That  of  arms  did  not  open  to 
him  till  he  was  twenty-five,  when  he  distinguished  himself, 
not  only  by  bravery  and  address,  but  by  a  dignity  and  grace 
of  manner  the  first  glimpse  of  his  slight  figure  hardly  prom- 
ised. He  was  conqueror  in  scores  of  tilts,  and  vanquished 
foreigners  went  back  to  France  to  proclaim  his  chivalry  to 
that  court. 

"  Then  Louis  wanted  him,  and  Sordello  was  hastening 
across  the  Alps,  when  Eccelin  da  Romano  called  him  to 
Verona.  Here  his  young  life  was  made  wretched  by  Bea- 
trice, sister  of  Eccelin.  Prayers,  tears,  and  swoons,  how- 
ever, did  not  prevent  him  from  seeking  in  Mantua  a  refuge 
from  an  intrigue  unworthy  of  his  honor.  She  followed  him 
to  Mantua,  disguised  as  a  page,  and  in  the  end  became  his 
wife.  A  few  days  after  the  wedding,  to  which  it  can  hardly 
be  said  that  he  consented,  the  Troubadour  very  naturally 
remembered  that  King  Louis  needed  him.  Partly  at  court, 
and  partly  at  the  ancient  French  city  of  Troyes,  his  valor,  his 
gallantry,  and  his  sweet  verses  won  all  hearts.  Louis  made 
him  a  chevalier,  and  gave  him  three  thousand  francs  and  a 
golden  falcon.  On  his  return,  the  Italian  cities  met  him, 
one  after  the  other,  with  stately  congratulation,  the  Mantu- 
ans  coming  in  a  crowd  to  greet  him.  In  1229  he  joined 


372  Sordello. 

his  wife  at  Padua,  and  that  city  celebrated  his  return  by  a 
whole  week  of  festivity.  From  1250  to  1253  the  brother 
of  Beatrice,  Eccelin  da  Romano,  besieged  Mantua.  At  the 
last  the  unwilling  husband  led  the  people  out,  and  in  the 
fray  that  followed  Eccelin  perished. 

"  But  this  graceful  story  could  not  have  been  true.  At 
the  time  when  it  asserts  that  Sordello  went  into  France, 
there  was  no  Louis  —  only  a  Philip  Augustus  —  on  the 
throne.  The  siege  of  Mantua  did  not  begin  till  1256,  and 
Eccelin  died  in  1259.  His  sister's  real  name  was  Cuniza. 
Perhaps  Sordello  told  some  such  story  of  himself  in  one  of 
the  dancing  rhymes  he  sung  by  the  camp-fire.  Very  soon 
did  such  songs  turn  into  history. 

•'  Rolandino,  a  Latin  historian,  born  in  Padua  in  the  year 
1200,  and  therefore  a  contemporary,  mentions  the  matter 
differently.  '  Cuniza,  wife  of  Richard  of  St.  Boniface,  and 
sister  of  Eccelin  da  Romano,  was  stolen  from  her  husband,' 
he  says,  '  by  one  Sordello,  who  was  of  the  same  family.' 
The  ambiguity  of  this  last  phrase  perplexed  Tiraboschi,  but 
would  hardly  deserve  our  attention  if  it  had  not  furnished 
a  hint  for  the  modern  poem.  In  Browning's  hands,  Sor- 
dello is  no  guilty  troubadour,  but  the  unwitting  victim  of 
political  schemers,  held  as  a  hostage  by  his  ambitious  enemy, 
and  that  enemy  a  woman.  Palma  takes  the  place  of  Cuniza, 
but  with  no  dishonor  to  her  family.  Rolandino  adds  that 
the  pair  took  refuge  with  the  father  of  Cuniza,  who  finally 
drove  them  forth  in  disgrace. 

"  Dante,  however,  had  something  to  say  of  Sordello  which 
Browning  has  remembered.  At  the  entrance  of  Purgatory, 
in  a  spot  where  the  impenitent  mingle  with  those  who  have 
died  a  violent  death,  Virgil  meets  Sordello.  '  O  Mantuan !  ' 
he  cries,  '  I  am  Sordello,  born  in  thy  land.'  Dante  here 
attributes  to  him  '  the  lion's  glance  and  port,'  and  in  his 
treatise  De  Vulgari  Eloquio,  says  that  Sordello  excelled 
in  all  kinds  of  composition,  and  that  he  helped  to  fqrm  the 
Tuscan  tongue  by  some  happy  attempts  which  he  made  in 
the  dialects  of  Cremona,  Brescia,  and  Verona,  cities  not  far 
removed  from  Mantua.  He  also  speaks  of  a  '  Goito  Man- 
tuan,' who  was  the  author  of  many  good  songs,  and  who  left 
in  every  stanza  an  unmatched  line  which  he  called  the  key  ; 
and  this  singer  Tiraboschi  thinks  is  our  Troubadour. 


Sordello.  373 

"  Benvenuto  d'  Imola,  a  commentator  on  Dante,  of  the 
fourteenth  century,  says,  in  a  note  to  the  sixth  canto  of  the 
Purgatorio :  '  Sordello  was  a  native  of  Mantua,  an  illustrious 
and  skillful  warrior,  and  an  accomplished  courtier.  This 
chevalier  lived  in  the  time  of  Eccelin  da  Romano,  whose  sis- 
ter conceived  for  him  so  violent  a  passion  that  she  often  had 
him  brought  to  her  apartments  by  a  private  way.  Informed 
of  this  intrigue,  Eccelin  disguised  himself  as  a  servant,  .and 
surprised  the  unfortunate  poet,  who  promised  on  his  knees 
not  to  repeat  the  offense.  But,'  continues  Benvenuto  in 
forcible  Latin,  '  the  cursed  Cuniza  dragged  him  anew  into 
perdition.  He  was  naturally  grave,  virtuous,  and  prudent. 
To  withdraw  himself  from  Eccelin  he  fled,  but  was  pursued 
and  assassinated.' 

''  Benvenuto  attributes  to  Sordello  a  Latin  work,  Thesau- 
rus Thesaurorum  ;  and  if  such  a  work  ever  existed  we  un- 
derstand the  sympathy  with  which  the  Troubadour  embraced 
the  knees  of  Virgil, '  O  Glory  of  the  Latins,'  etc.  Dante,  at 
all  events,  thought  of  him  as  a  patriot,  and  his  outburst  over 
the  meeting  colors  the  modern  poem.  That  his  poems  were 
more  philosophical  than  amatory  was  a  still  further  appeal 
to  the  sympathy  of  the  Florentine." 

Still  another  account  of  Sordello  is  that  given  by  Quadrio, 
in  his  Storia  d'  ogni  Poesia,  who  says  :  "  Sordello,  native 
of  Go'ito  (Sordelde  Goi),  a  village  in  the  Mantuan  territory, 
was  born  in  1184,  and  was  the  son  of  a  poor  knight  named 
Elcort.  .  .  .  Having  afterwards  returned  to  Italy,  he  gov- 
erned Mantua  with  the  title  of  regent  and  captain-general, 
and  was  opposed  to  the  tyrant  Ezzelino,  being  a  great  lover 
of  justice,  as  Agnelli  writes.  Finally  he  died,  very  old  and 
full  of  honor,  about  1280.  He  wrote  not  only  in  Provencal, 
but  also  in  our  own  common  Italian  tongue ;  and  he  was 
one  of  those  poets  who  avoided  the  dialect  of  his  own  prov- 
ince, and  used  the  good,  choice  language,  as  Dante  affirms 
in  his  book  of  De  Vulgari  Eloquw" 

Commenting  on  the  accounts  given  of  Sordello,  Millot,  in 
his  History  of  the  Literature  of  ike  Troubadours,  says : 
"  According  to  Agnelli  and  Platina,  historians  of  Mantua, 
he  was  of  the  house  of  Visconti  of  that  city ;  valiant  in 
deeds  of  arms,  famous  in  jousts  and  tournaments,  he  won 
the  love  of  Beatrice,  daughter  of  Ezzelin  de  Romano,  Lord 


374  Bordello. 

of  the  Marca  Trevigiana,  and  married  her ;  he  governed 
Mantua  as  podesta  and  captain-general,  and  though  son- 
in-law  of  the  tyrant  Ezzelin,  he  always  opposed  him,  being 
a  great  lover  of  justice.  We  find  these  facts  cited  by  Cre- 
scimbeni,  who  says  that  Sordello  was  the  lord  of  Goito  ;  but 
as  they  are  not  applicable  to  our  poet,  we  presume  they  re- 
fer to  a  warrior  of  the  same  name,  and  perhaps  of  a  differ- 
ent, family.  Among  the  pieces  of  Sordello,  thirty- four  in 
number,  there  are  some  fifteen  songs  of  gallantry,  though 
Nostradamus  says  that  all  his  pieces  turn  only  upon  philo- 
sophical subjects." 

The  French  historians  give  a  somewhat  different  account 
of  Sordello,  and  they  especially  dwell  upon  his  character  as 
a  troubadour.  Nostradamus,  in  his  Lives  of  the  Provencal 
Poets,  says :  "  Sordello  was  a  Mantuan  poet,  who  surpassed 
in  Provencal  song  Calvo,  Folchetto  of  Marseilles,  Lan- 
franco  Cicala,  Percival  Doria,  and  all  the  other  Genoese 
and  Tuscan  poets,  who  took  far  greater  delight  in  our  Pro- 
vencal tongue,  on  account  of  its  sweetness,  than  in  their  own 
maternal  language.  This  poet  was  very  studious,  and  ex- 
ceedingly eager  to  know  all  things,  and  as  much  as  any  one 
of  his  nation  excellent  in  learning  as  well  as  in  understand- 
ing and  in  prudence.  He  wrote  several  beautiful  songs,  not 
indeed  of  love,  for  not  one  of  that  kind  is  found  among  his 
works,  but  on  philosophic  subjects.  Raymond  Belinghieri, 
the  last  Count  of  Provence  of  that  name,  in  the  last  days 
of  his  life  (the  poet  being  then  but  fifteen  years  of  age)  on 
account  of  the  excellence  of  his  poetry  and  the  rare  inven- 
tion shown  in  his  productions  took  him  into  his  service,  as 
Pietro  di  Castelnuovo,  himself  a  Proven  gal  poet,  informs 
us.  He  also  wrote  various  satires  in  the  same  language,  and 
among  others  one  in  which  he  reproves  all  the  Christian 
princes ;  and  it  is  composed  in  the  form  of  a  funeral  song 
on  the  death  of  Blancasso." 

The  poem  thus  mentioned  by  Nostradamus  is  translated 
by  William  Cullen  Bryant  in  his  article  on  "  Nostradamus's 
Provencal  Poets,"  now  published  in  the  first  volume  of  his 
Prose  Works :  — 

"  I  mourn  for  my  Lord  Blaehas,  I  weep  that  he  is  dead, 
That  the  nohlest,  hravest  spirit  of  this  coward  age  is  fled ; 
We  cannot  call  it  back,  but  will  keep  his  g-enerous  heart, 
And  the  craven  lords  of  Europe  shall  each  receive  a  part. 


Sordello.  375 

Let  the  Emperor  partake,  if  he  would  triumph  o'er 

The  Pope  and  the  Milanese,  whose  armies  press  him  sore, 

And  give  the  King  of  France,  that  youthful  king,  his  share, 

That  he  may  get  Castile  again,  the  gem  he  used  to  wear. 

But  since,  within  the  Council,  another  rules  than  he, 

Let  him  take  especial  care  his  mother  does  not  see. 

Give  largely  to  the  English  King,  and  he  may  think,  perchance, 

Of  winning  hack  the  fair,  broad  lands  that  he  has  lost  in  France. 

The  monarch  of  Castile,  let  him  take  enough  for  two, 

For  to  keep  the  remnant  of  his  realm  is  what  he  scarce  can  do ; 

But  secretly  and  slyly  let  him  receive  his  share, 

Lest  Portugal  should  come  in  wrath  and  pull  his  royal  hair. 

Let  him  of  Aragon  partake  as  largely  as  he  will, 

That  he  may  clear  from  foul  disgrace  his  courage  and  his  skill, 

When  leading  all  his  hosts,  he  came,  with  furious  heat, 

To  seize  Marseilles  and  storm  Milan,  and  shamefully  was  heat. 

"  Give  freely  to  Navarre,  that  lily-livered  thing, 

Who  was  a  tolerable  count,  but  makes  a  sorry  king. 

And  to  the  Count  of  Toulouse,  that  he  may  see  at  length 

How  warlike  hands  have  lopped  his  realm  and  hewn  away  his  strength, 

How  at  the  very  sacred  hour,  when  tolled  the  vesper-bell, 

By  thousands,  in  the  bloody  streets,  the  sons  of  Provence  fell." 

Raynouard,  in  his  Poetry  of  the  Troubadours,  tells  the 
story  of  Sordello's  life  in  a  way  of  his  own :  "  Sordello  was 
a  Mantuan  of  Sirier,  son  of  a  poor  knight  whose  name  was 
Sir  El  Cort.  And  he  delighted  in  learning  songs  and  in 
making  them,  and  wrote  love-songs  and  satires.  And  he 
came  to  the  court  of  the  Count  of  Saint  Boniface,  and  the 
Count  honored  him  greatly,  and  by  way  of  pastime  he  fell 
in  love  with  the  wife  of  the  Count,  and  she  with  him.  And 
it  happened  that  the  Count  quarreled  with  her  brothers, 
and  became  estranged  from  her  ;  and  her  brothers,  Sir  Icel- 
lis  and  Sir  Albrics,  persuaded  Sir  Sordello  to  run  away  with 
her,  and  he  came  to  live  with  them  in  great  content.  And 
afterwards  he  went  into  Provence  and  received  great  honor 
from  all  good  men,  and  from  the  Count  and  Countess,  who 
gave  him  a  good  castle  and  a  gentlewoman  for  his  wife." 

In  his  History  of  French  Literature,  Emeric-David  comes 
to  the  conclusion  that  Sordello  was  not  a  troubadour,  and 
that  in  reality  he  was  the  old  podesta  of  Mantua  of  whom 
Dante  sang.  In  his  History  of  Italian  Literature,  Tira- 
boschi  devotes  sixteen  solid  pages  to  Sordello,  but  is  not  able 
to  decide  who  he  was. 

Mrs.  Dall  continues  her  account  of  Sordello  by  saying 


376  Sordello. 

that  "  Giambattista  d'  Arco  attributes  to  Sordello  several 
historical  translations  out  of  Latin  into  the  vulgar  tongue, 
and  an  original  treatise  on  The  Defense  of  Walled  Towns. 
Tiraboschi,  who  had  access  to  a  very  large  number  of  manu- 
scripts, rejects  most  of  these  splendid  stories.  According  to 
him,  Sordello  was  a  Mantuan,  born  in  Goito,  at  the  very 
close  of  the  twelfth  century.  He  went  into  Provence,  but 
not  when  a  boy. .  He  eloped  with  the  wife  of  his  friend, 
Count  Boniface ;  he  was  of  noble  family,  and  a  warrior,  but 
never  a  captain-general  nor  a  governor  of  Mantua.  He  died 
a  violent  death,  about  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century, 
but  in  1281  he  would  have  been  a  hundred  years  old  !  .  .  . 
"  None  of  the  prose  translations,  nor  any  poems  written 
by  Sordello  in  the  Tuscan  tongue,  survive.  His  verses  in 
the  Provencal  are  all  that  remain  to  vindicate  his  genius. 
Thirty-four  pieces,  for  the  most  part  gallant  songs,  chal- 
lenge the  statement  of  Nostradamus,  that  he  was  devoted  to 
philosophy.  Two  have  been  translated  by  Millot.  The  re- 
frain of  the  first  is  — 

'  '  Alas !  of  what  use  to  have  eyes 

If  they  gaze  not  on  her  I  desire  ?  ' 

It  is  written  in  very  pure  taste.  The  second  is  a  more  or- 
dinary affair.  Three  of  the  pieces  are  of  the  sort  called 
tensons,  that  is,  dialogues.  One  discusses  the  duty  of  a  be- 
reaved lover.  The  second  compares  the  pursuit  of  knightly- 
feats  with  the  delights  of  love,  and  weighs  the  satisfactions 
of  each.  The  third  discusses  '  the  bad  faith  of  princes  ; '  a 
subject  which  he  renews  in  an  epistle  addressed  to  St.  Boni- 
face. We  should  have  had  but  a  poor  opinion  of  his  mettle 
were  this  epistle  the  only  testimony  to  it ;  for  he  begs  to  be 
excused  from  joining  the  crusaders  !  He  is  in  no  haste,  he 
says,  to  enter  on  eternal  life. 

"  His  other  poems  are  sirventes.  Many  of  them  attack 
the  troubadour  Vidal.  In  these,  threats  mingle  with  insults, 
which  become  gross  as  soon  as  they  are  translated.  Some, 
which  relate  to  the  moral  and  political  aspects  of  his  own 
time,  merit  our  attention,  and  doubtless  have  furnished 
Browning  with  more  than  one  pungent  line.  In  one  the 
poet  scoffs  at  those  who,  under  pretext  of  extirpating  hereti- 
cal Albigenses,  have  banded  together  to  despoil  Raymond, 
count  of  Toulouse.  The  satire  in  which  he  entreats  this 


Sordello.  377 

prince  not  to  submit  to  insult  or  rapine  must  have  been  writ- 
ten in  1228 ;  because  it  speaks  of  the  absolution  just  re- 
ceived by  Raymond  VII. 

"  His  best  poem  is  his  lament  for  Blacas,  a  Spanish 
troubadour  of  remarkable  personal  courage.  It  is  a  satire, 
and  sovereign  princes  are  urged  to  share  between  them  the 
heart  of  the  hero.  '  Let  the  emperor  eat  first  of  it,'  says 
the  song,  '  that  he  may  recover  what  the  Milanese  have 
taken  !  Let  the  noble  king  of  France  eat  of  it,  that  he 
may  regain  Castile  !  but  it  must  be  when  his  mother  is  not 
looking ! '  This  king  of  France  was  probably  Louis  IX., 
and  the  verses  must  have  been  written  in  the  ten  years  pre- 
ceding 1236. 

"  The  best  of  Sordello's  verses  show  a  dignity  of  compo- 
sition and  purity  of  taste  which  put  him  in  the  very  front 
rank  of  the  Provencals.  His  great  hold  on  posterity  con- 
sists in  the  fact  that  he  preceded  Dante  in  the  classic  use  of 
the  vulgar  tongue." 

Rutherford,  in  his  book  on  the  Troubadours,  translates 
two  or  three  of  the  poems  of  Sordello.  One  of  these  is  a 
sirvente,  in  which  the  poet  expressed  his  dislike  of  the  clois- 
tral life. 

"  To  whom  shall  now  our  songs  be  sung  ? 

Our  passion  now  be  said  ? 
As  if  their  funeral  knell  were  rung, 
We  count  them  with  the  dead. 

"  Alas !  and  must  we,  Count  of  mine, 

Our  souls  to  sorrow  give  ! 
Since  wanting  those  yon  cells  confine, 
It  is  not  life  to  live. 

"  Ah  !  never  more  shall  their  sweet  tones, 

My  Count,  delight  our  ears ; 
They  now  are  chanting  orisons, 
While  we  are  shedding  tears  ! 

"  But,  wherefore  do  we  mourning  stand  ? 

And  what  do  tears  avail  ? 
'T  were  better  far,  with  armed  hand, 
Their  prison  to  assail. 

"  My  Count,  let 's  fire  the  place  at  once, 

And  burn  it,  cells  and  towers, 
And  thus  unshrine  the  vile  St.  Pons, 
Who  robs  us  of  our  flowers. 


378  Sordello. 

"  In  vain !  in  vain !     No  human  hand 
May  snatch  them  from  their  fate  ! 
They  pine  among  the  cloistered  band, 
And  we  are  desolate." 

Another  of  these  poems  is  a  tenson,  in  which  Sordello 
holds  a  poetic  discussion  with  Montan  on  the  importance  of 
truthfulness  in  princes. 

SOBDEL. 

I  marvel  that  a  prince's  hand  can  contradict  his  tongue, 
And  that  his  words  shall  all  be  right,  while  all  his  deeds  are  wrong. 
To  noble  promises  should  deeds  as  noble  still  accord, 
Or  men  may  stigmatize  who  speaks  with  one  short,  ugly  word. 

MONTAN. 

I  marvel  not,  too  much  it  costs  generous  to  be  and  j  ust, 
For  princely  praise  to  swell  the  speech  of  those  who  princes  trust  ; 
Yet  would  the  folly  me  amaze  in  any  but  a  prince, 
That  thinks  a  handsome  falsehood  may  good  service  recompense. 

SOKDEL. 

I  would,  my  Montan,  that  to  all  this  maxim  we  could  teach, 
Never  to  promise  aught  but  that  which  lies  within  their  reach  — 
Who  ready  shows  to  promise  all,  that  man  his  honor  slights ; 
And  lies  should  be  accounted  shame  in  princes  as  in  knights. 

A  passage  from  one  of  Sordello's  poems  is  translated  by 
Mr.  Holland,  in  his  Stories  from  Browning  :  — 

"  I  love  a  lady,  fair  without  a  peer, 
Serve  her  I  'd  rather,  though  she  ne'er  requite 
My  love,  than  give  myself  to  other  dames, 
However  richly  they  might  pay  their  knight. 
Requite  me  not  ?     Nay.     He  who  serves  a  dame 
Whose  honor,  grace,  and  virtue  shine  like  day, 
Can  do  no  service  which  the  very  joy 
Of  doing  doth  not  bounteously  repay. 
For  other  recompense  I  will  not  pine, 
But  should  it  come,  her  pleasure  still  is  mine." 

A  tenson  rendered  remarkable  by  the  way  in  which  one 
of  the  disputants  contradicted  his  own  arguments  by  his  sub- 
sequent action  was  held  between  Guilhelm  de  la  Tor  and 
Sordello.  "  There  is  a  lover,"  said  the  former,  "  who  has 
a  cherished  mistress  ;  he  sees  her  expire  before  his  face  ; 
should  he  die  with  her  or  survive  her  ?  "  Sordello  replied 
that  "  when  death  had  divided  a  loving  couple,  it  was  better 
for  the  one  who  had  been  so  bereaved  to  follow  the  other  to 
the  tomb  than  to  remain  on  earth  in  agony  and  despair." 


Sordello.  379 

To  this  la  Tor  responded,  that  "  the  dead  could  gain  nothing 
by  the  sacrifice  of  the  living,  and  that  it  could  not  be  right 
to  do  that  from  which  no  good,  but  much  evil,  would  re- 
sult." La  Tor  did,  however,  as  Sordel  had  advised  when 
he  came  to  lose  the  mistress  of  his  heart.  Guilhelm  de  la 
Tor  fell  in  love  with  the  wife  of  a  barber,  who  deserted  her 
husband  for  him  ;  but  she  died  of  a  pestilence  a  few  months 
later.  He  remained  on  her  tomb  day  and  night,  which  he 
opened  every  night  to  see  if  she  were  not  feigning,  until  his 
strange  conduct  caused  the  people  to  turn  him  out  of  the 
city.  When  some  prescribed  a  hard  remedy  which  it  was 
promised  would  restore  his  wife  to  him,  la  Tor  tried  it  faith- 
fully for  a  year,  and  then  died  of  grief. 

In  his  Literature  of  Southern  Europe  Sismondi  says 
that  the  poet  has  always  been  a  hero  to  his  biographer. 
"  No  one  has  experienced  this  good  fortune  in  an  equal  de- 
gree with  Sordello  of  Mantua,  whose  real  merit  consists  in 
the  harmony  and  sensibility  of  his  verses.  He  was  among 
the  first  to  adopt  the  ballad-form  of  writing,  and  in  one  of 
those,  which  has  been  translated  by  Millot  (into  French) 
he  beautifully  contrasts,  in  the  burden  of  his  ballad,  the 
gayeties  of  Nature  and  the  ever-reviving  grief  of  a  heart 
devoted  to  love.  Sordel,  or  Sordello,  was  born  at  Go'ito, 
near  Mantua,  and  was,  for  some  time,  attached  to  the  house 
of  Count  St.  Boniface,  the  chief  of  the  Guelph  party,  in 
the  March  of  Trevise.  He  afterwards  passed  into  the  ser- 
vice of  Raymond  Berenger,  the  last  Count  of  Provence  of 
the  house  of  Barcelona.  Although  a  Lombard,  he  had 
adopted,  in  his  compositions,  the  Provencal  language,  and 
many  of  his  countrymen  imitated  him.  It  was  not,  at  that 
time,  believed  that  the  Italian  was  capable  of  becoming  a 
polished  language.  The  age  of  Sordello  was  that  of  the 
most  brilliant  chivalric  virtues  and  the  most  atrocious 
crimes.  He  lived  in  the  midst  of  heroes  and  monsters. 
The  imagination  of  the  people  was  still  haunted  by  the  rec- 
ollection of  the  ferocious  Ezzelino,  tyrant  of  Verona,  with 
whom  Sordello  is  said  to  have  had  a  contest,  and  who 
was  probably  often  mentioned  in  his  verses.  The  histori- 
cal monuments  of  this  reign  of  blood  were,  however,  little 
known,  and  the  people  mingled  the  name  of  their  favorite 
with  every  revolution  which  excited  their  terror.  It  was 


380  Sordello. 

said  that  he  had  carried  off  the  wife  of  the  Count  of  St. 
Boniface,  the  sovereign  of  Mantua,  that  he  had  married 
the  daughter  or  sister  of  Ezzelino,  and  that  he  had  fought 
this  monster  with  glory  to  himself.  He  united,  according 
to  popular  report,  the  most  brilliant  military  exploits  to  the 
most  distinguished  poetical  genius.  By  the  voice  of  St. 
Louis  himself,  he  had  been  recognized,  at  a  tourney,  as  the 
most  valiant  and  gallant  of  knights;  and  at  last  the  sov- 
ereignty of  Mantua  had  been  bestowed  upon  this  noblest 
of  the  poets  and  warriors  of  his  age.  Histories  of  credit 
have  collected,  three  centuries  after  Sordello's  death,  these 
brilliant  fictions,  which  are,  however,  disproved  by  the  testi- 
mony of  contemporary  writers.  The  reputation  of  Sordello 
is  owing,  very  materially,  to  the  admiration  which  has  been 
expressed  for  him  by  Dante.  .  .  .  Sainte-Palaye  has  col- 
lected thirty-four  poems  of  Sordello's ;  fifteen  of  these  are 
love-songs,  and  some  of  them  are  written  in  a  pure  and 
delicate  style.  Amongst  the  other  pieces  is  a  funeral  eulo- 
gium  on  the  Chevalier  de  Blacas,  an  Aragonese  troubadour, 
whose  heart,  Sordello  says,  shouldst  be  divided  amongst  all 
the  monarchs  in  Christendom,  to  supply  them  with  the 
courage  of  which  they  stand  in  need.  At  the  same  time 
we  find  among  the  compositions  of  Sordello  some  pieces 
little  worthy  of  the  admiration  which  has  been  bestowed 
upon  his  personal  character,  and  not  altogether  in  accord- 
ance with  the  delicacy  of  a  knight  and  a  troubadour.  In 
one  he  speaks  of  his  success  in  his  amours  with  a  kind  of 
coarse  complacency,  very  far  removed  from  the  devotion 
which  was  due  to  the  sex  from  every  cavalier." 

The  suggestion  of  Sismondi,  that  Sordello  gained  what- 
ever reputation  he  possesses  because  of  the  notice  given 
him  by  Dante,  is  confirmed  by  Church,  in  his  Dante  and 
Other  Essays,  where  he  says  of  the  Mantuan  poet :  "  He 
was  plainly  a  distinguished  person  in  his  time,  a  cunning 
craftsman  in  the  choice  and  use  of  language ;  but  if  this 
was  all,  his  name  would  only  rank  with  a  number  of  others, 
famous  in  their  time,  but  under  the  cloud  of  greater  suc- 
cessors. He  may  have  been  something  more  than  a  writer 
and  speaker ;  he  may  have  been  a  ruler,  though  that  is 
doubtful.  But  we  know  him,  because  in  the  ante-chamber 
of  Purgatory  he  was  so  much  to  Dante.  Through  three 


Sordello.  381 

cantos  he  is  the  companion  and  guide  of  the  two  great 
pilgrims.  He  is  shown  to  us,  as  it  were,  in  picture  —  his 
solitariness,  his  lofty  faith,  his  melancholy  majesty.  His 
presence  calls  forth  some  of  Dante's  deepest  and  most 
memorable  laments  over  the  miseries  of  Italy,  and  the 
responsibilities  of  her  indolent  and  incapable  rulers.  He 
leads  his  compa'nions  to  the  secret  and  guarded  valley  where 
kings  and  princes  of  the  earth,  who  have  meant  to  do  their 
duty,  but  in  the  end  have  not  fulfilled  their  trust,  must  wait 
outside  of  Purgatory  the  hour  of  mercy  ;  when  Dante  sees 
their  still  sadness,  and  learns  their  names,  and  hears  their 
evening  hymns.  And  here  we  learn  Dante's  judgment  on 
Sordello  himself :  he  is  placed  by  himself,  more  self-centred 
and  in  guise  haughtier  than  even  the  rulers  and  judges  in 
whose  company  he  waits  to  begin  his  cleansing ;  and  he  is 
placed  among  those  who  had  great  opportunities  and  great 
thoughts  —  the  men  of  great  chances  and  great  failures." 

Of  the  use  which  Browning  makes  of  such  facts  as  can 
be  gathered  about  Sordello,  Church  has  also  spoken  what  is 
undoubtedly  true  :  "  He  does  what  was  a  common  practice 
at  a  certain  period  of  classical  literature,  and  to  which  our 
critical  days  have  given,  often  very  unjustly,  the  name  of 
intentional  forgery :  the  practice  of  taking  up  famous  or 
well-known  names  into  the  sphere  of  imagination,  and 
making  them  speak  as  it  is  thought  they  ought  to  speak  — 
making  them  speak  what  is  believed  to  be  true  in  the  spirit 
though  feigned  in  the  letter,  like  the  speeches  of  generals 
and  statesmen  in  Thucydides  or  Livy.  Mr.  Browning  takes 
great  liberties  :  much  greater  than  our  historical  dramatists 
and  novelists,  when  they  present  a  Richard  the  Second  or  a 
Savonarola,  perhaps  no  more  than  Dante  has  taken  with 
some  of  his  great  names,  perhaps  with  his  Sordello  and  his 
Cunizza.  Sordello,  like  Hamlet,  comes  from  the  poet's  in- 
ner consciousness  ;  the  scraps  that  we  do  possess  about  him 
—  Dante's  magnificent  picture  in  Purgatory,  the  scant  no- 
tices collected  in  troubadour  histories,  or  the  fuller  but  more 
mythical  accounts,  like  Platina's,  Mr.  Browning  haughtily 
passes  by.  He  has  a  Sordello  of  his  own,  utterly  unlike 
anything  written  of  him  elsewhere,  and  of  him  he  knows 
the  innermost  secret." 

The  period  in  which  Sordello  lived  was  a  remarkable  one. 


382  Sorddlo. 

The  Crusades  were  drawing  to  a  close,  in  failure.  They 
had  given  a  new  life  to  Europe,  however,  and  out  of  them 
had  grown  feudalism  and  chivalry.  In  the  South  of  France 
the  spirit  of  chivalry  was  beginning  to  express  itself,  and  it 
especially  found  utterance  in  Provencal  poetry.  Sordello 
was  a  troubadour,  if  we  may  believe  some  of  those  who 
have  written  of  him ;  and  he  had  some  of  the  finer,  as  well 
as  some  of  the  coarser  qualities  which  were  associated  with 
chivalry. 

We  see  in  the  life  of  Sordello  another  remarkable  move- 
ment of  his  time  finding  expression,  that  of  the  origin  of 
the  modern  European  languages  and  literatures.  Until  his 
time  Latin  had  been  the  sole  language  of  literature,  science, 
and  theology,  for  a  period  of  several  centuries.  The  new 
life  that  was  springing  up  found  utterance  in  the  use  of 
the  common  or  vulgar  language  of  the  people  as  a  medium 
of  literary  expression.  The  troubadours  developed  this 
movement  in  France,  as  the  minnesingers  did  in  Germany. 
A  little  later  Dante  wrote  his  great  poem  in  Italian,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  modern  history  made  the  language  in  which 
the  people  spoke  the  medium  of  great  and  vital  ideas.  One 
of  the  predecessors  of  Dante  in  this  work,  by  whose  aid  it 
became  possible  for  him  to  accomplish  what  he  did,  was 
Sordello.  This  Mantuan  poet  wrote  either  in  the  speech 
of  his  own  province  or  in  Provencal,  in  either  case  discard- 
ing Latin,  and  singing  of  love,  honor,  and  philosophy  in  a 
speech  the  people  could  understand. 

In  another  direction  Sordello  was  an  actor  in  a  great 
movement  of  his  time.  The  struggle  between  the  Church 
and  the  Empire  —  the  struggle  between  religious  and  secu- 
lar authority  —  had  begun  long  before,  and  at  one  time 
appeared  to  have  been  settled  in  the  victory  of  Hildebrand 
over  Henry  IV.  It  had  been  revived  before  the  time  of 
Sordello,  and  was  in  full  activity  in  his  day,  as  a  fierce 
struggle  between  Guelf  and  Ghibelline.  The  Guelfs  were 
on  the  side  of  the  Church  and  the  popes,  and  desired  that 
the  pope  should  exercise  a  spiritual  authority  extending 
over  all  countries,  and  superior  to  all  secular  rulers.  Singu- 
larly enough  to  those  who  judge  the  Catholic  Church  from 
more  recent  standards,  the  Guelfs  were  the  democrats  of 
ihe  time,  and  were  on  the  side  of  the  people  as  against  the 


Bordello.  383 

hard  and  oppressive  rule  of  the  secular  authorities,  from 
duke  to  emperor.  It  was  this  fact  which  made  the  cities 
of  Northern  Italy  incline  to  the  side  of  the  Guelfs,  for  the 
cities  were  developing  an  independent  life,  and  were  as 
democratic  as  was  then  possible. 

The  Ghibellines  took  the  side  of  the  emperor  of  the 
German  Empire,  which  had  been  known  as  the  Holy  Roman 
Empire.  They  desired  that  the  Church  should  rule  in  all 
spiritual  matters,  and  that  the  Empire  or  the  state  should 
rule  through  the  emperor  in  all  secular  matters.  On  their 
side  were  the  beginnings  of  the  modern  idea  of  the  state, 
and  of  its  entire  separation  from  the  church. 

The  names  Guelf  and  Ghibelline  originated  in  Germany 
in  the  twelfth  century,  in  a  contest  of  rival  families  for  the 
title  of  emperor.  During  the  siege  of  Weinsberg  the  fol- 
lowers of  Count  Welf  shouted  the  name  of  their  leader, 
while  the  other  party  took  up  the  cry  of  Waiblings,  Waib- 
lingen  having  been  the  birth-place  of  Frederick,  the  brother 
of  the  Emperor  Conrad.  These  names  came  to  represent 
principles  as  well  as  families,  and  as  such  were  carried  to 
Italy,  where  they  were  corrupted  into  Guelf  and  Ghibelline. 

According  to  Giovanni  Fiorentino,  in  Roscoe's  Italian 
Novelists,  1  :  322,  the  words  Guelf  and  Ghibelline  origi- 
nated in  the  time  of  Bordello,  in  the  quarrel  of  two  German 
families  who  bore  these  names.  He  tells  how  they  were 
taken  up  in  Florence,  and  there  became  the  expressions 
of  bitter  hatred  between  two  great  families.  This  account 
may  be  found  in  Longfellow's  Divine  Comedy,  1  :  224. 
From  Florence  the  names  spread  to  all  Italy,  and  finally 
came  to  designate  the  parties  of  the  pope  and  the  em- 
peror. The  leaders  in  this  fierce  struggle,  in  the  time  of 
Bordello,  were  Frederick  II.,  the  German  .emperor,  and 
Pope  Gregory  IX.  Frederick  ruled  from  1214  to  1250, 
thus  covering  by  his  rule  the  whole  period  of  the  active 
life  of  Sordello.  Opposed  to  him  during  that  period  were 
three  popes,  Honorius  III.,  1216  - 1227  ;  Gregory  IX., 
1227-1241;  and  Innocent  IV.,  1243-1264.  The  story 
of  the  struggle  between  these  popes  and  Frederick  has 
been  well  told  in  Milman's  History  of  Latin  Christianity, 
vol.  iv.  It  is  also  told  by  Sismondi,  in  his  History  of  the 
Italian  Republics. 


384  Sordello. 

Frederick  was  one  of  the  greatest  rulers  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  He  was  liberal,  broad-minded,  a  ripe  scholar,  a 
troubadour  of  no  mean  ability,  and  a  man  of  great  personal 
capacities.  Though  almost  continuously  under  the  ban  of 
the  Church,  being  repeatedly  excommunicated,  he  held  his 
empire  in  a  condition  of  loyalty  to  himself,  and  he  was 
very  popular  among  his  subjects.  He  was  generous  to- 
wards the  Saracens,  when  he  conducted  the  fifth  crusade  to 
Jerusalem  ;  he  zealously  promoted  learning  and  literature ; 
he  devised  a  remarkable  law  code  for  his  own  kingdom  in 
Southern  Italy,  and  he  ruled  with  a  powerful  hand,  that 
was  felt  for  order  and  growth  throughout  his  empire.  He 
was  passionate,  ambitious,  obstinate,  luxurious  in  his  tastes, 
and  of  a  skeptical  mind.  He  had  no  care  for  human  life 
when  his  purpose  was  to  be  carried  out. 

Frederick's  chief  in  Northern  Italy  was  Eccelin  or 
Ezzelino  III.,  a  powerful  noble,  called  the  Monk,  because  of 
his  austere  religious  habits.  He  was  fierce,  hard,  selfish, 
and  oppressive.  He  became  one  of  the  Paterini,  a  sect  akin 
to  the  Albigenses,  and  retired  from  the  world.  His  first 
wife  was  the  sister  of  Azzo  of  Este,  and  was  the  mother  of 
Cunizza.  Browning  calls  the  latter  Palma,  which  was  the 
name  of  a  younger  sister  of  Cunizza.  The  second  wife  of 
Eccelin  the  Monk  was  Adelaide,  the  mother  of  Eccelin  IV., 
called  the  Tyrant ;  and  of  Alberic,  who  became  the  suc- 
cessor to  his  father  in  Lombardy.  She  practiced  magic 
and  astrology. 

The  account  given  of  Eccelin  the  Monk  in  Mrs.  William 
Busk's  Mediaeval  Popes,  Emperors,  Kings,  and  Crusaders 
opens  up  the  characteristics  of  the  age  in  which  lived  Sor- 
dello. and  gives  hint  of  how  far  Browning  is  faithful  to 
the  spirit  of  the  time  he  represents.  "  It  was  Ezzelino 
III.  who  raised  the  family  of  Romano  nearly  to  the  zenith 
of  its  grandeur.  He  is  no  unimportant  person  of  the  age  ; 
and  some  incidents  of  his  life  are  highly  characteristic  of 
the  state  of  morals,  manners,  and  public  opinion  in  Italy 
at  the  period  in  question.  This  third  Ezzelino  married 
Agnes,  a  daughter  of  the  rival  house  of  Este  ;  she  died  in 
childbed,  and  he  took  for  his  second  wife  Speronella  Dales- 
mannini.  This  lady  had  previously  four  times  pronounced 
the  nuptial  vow ;  and  for  aught  that  appears  to  the  con- 


Sordello.  385 

trary,  three,  if  not  all  four,  of  the  husbands  might  still  be 
alive  to  claim  her.  Of  these  four  matrimonial  engage- 
ments, only  the  first,  with  Giacopino  di  Carrara,  was  of  the 
commonplace,  orderly  kind,  and  it  is  but  justice  to  Spero- 
nella  to  say  that  not  by  her  voluntary  act  was  it  broken. 
Her  beauty  so  fired  the  passions  of  Conte  Pagano,  then  im- 
perial governor  of  Padua,  that,  abusing  the  too  arbitrary 
power  which  in  this  capacity  he  possessed,  he  tore  her  from 
her  lawful  husband  and  made  her  —  the  perplexing  part  of 
the  story  —  not  his  paramour,  but  his  wife.  From  this 
compulsory  state  of  sinful  bigamy  Speronella  effected  her 
own  liberation  ;  but,  in  lieu  of  returning  to  her  proper  hus- 
band, who  might,  indeed,  refuse  to  take  her  back,  she  wed- 
ded a  third  spouse,  named  Traversario.  This  gentleman 
may  possibly  have  left  her  a  widow,  for  of  him  nothing 
more  is  heard  ;  and  she  is  soon  afterwards  found  as  the 
wife  of  a  fourth  husband,  Pietro  di  Zaussano,  from  whom 
she  eloped,  to  espouse  the  heir  of  the  mighty  Ezzeh'no  da 
Romano.  But  she  had  now  acquired,  if  innate  it  were  not, 
a  taste  for  change.  Her  new  lord,  upon  his  return  from 
a  visit  to  Olderico  di  Fontana,  indiscreetly  expatiated  upon 
his  host's  hospitality,  wealth,  and  personal  beauty,  the 
sculpture-like  perfection  of  which  had  impressed  him  while 
bathing  together.  Speronella  was  enamored  through  her 
ears ;  and  now,  reckless  of  the  power  of  the  Romanos, 
which  she  had  been  so  ambitious  to  share,  she  fled  from  her 
fifth  consort  to  plight  her  brittle  faith  to  a  sixth  in  Olde- 
rico, who  seems  to  have  unhesitatingly  married  the  wife  of 
his  friend.  Of  this  polyandrian  lady  no  further  mention 
occurs  ;  it  may  therefore  be  hoped  that  as  Olderico's  wife 
or  widow  she  ended  her  eccentric  matrimonial  career.  But 
her  deserted  lord's  third  marriage  exhibits  a  picture  of  the 
tone  of  Italian  morality  in  the  Middle  Ages  as  loathsome  if 
not  as  surprising  as  Speronella's  matrimonial  freaks. 

"  Ezzelino  the  Monk's  sister,  Cunizza,  countess  of  Cainpo- 
sanpietro,  communicated  to  her  father,  Ezzelino  the  Stam- 
merer, the  very  satisfactory  intelligence  that  the  hand  of  the 
great  heiress  of  the  province,  Cecilia  di  Abano,  or  Baone, 
was  promised  to  her  eldest  son,  Gerardo.  The  information 
was  not  received  as  his  daughter  anticipated.  The  know- 
ledge that  the  Abano  fiefs  were  to  be  brought  into  the 


386  Sordello. 

family  suggested  to  the  Signer  di  Romano  the  idea  that 
they  might  better  add  to  the  power  of  the  house  of  Romano 
instead  of  enriching  the  heir  of  Camposanpietro  through 
his  own  grandchild.  And  Speronella's  flight  having  left 
his  son  and  heir  again  a  single  man,  he  at  once  acted  upon 
the  suggestion.  He  caused  the  heiress  of  Ahano  to  be 
waylaid,  seized,  and  brought  to  Bassano,  where  she  was  in- 
stantly married  to  Ezzelino  the  son.  But  the  disappointed 
suitor,  Gerardo  di  Camposanpietro,  did  not  tamely  submit 
to  the  loss  of  his  bride  and  her  broad  lands.  If  compensa- 
tion he  could  not,  vengeance  he  was  resolute  to  have ;  and 
setting  spies  on  the  movements  of  his  new  aunt,  he  sur- 
prised her  upon  a  journey,  by  superiority  of  numbers  over- 
powered her  escort,  and  forcibly  compelled  her  to  submit  to 
embraces,  which  but  for  his  grandfather's  act  of  violence 
would  have  been  lawful.  Thus  publicly  dishonored  he  sent 
her  home  to  her  husband.  Ezzelino  immediately  repudi- 
ated this  victim  to  the  unbridled  passions  of  the  age,  and 
what  became  of  her  does  not  appear. 

"  As  his  fourth  wife,  Ezzelino  the  Monk  espoused  Adela- 
ida  di  Mangone,  which  proved  a  more  lasting  and  a  more 
fruitful  union  than  the  others ;  Adelaida  presenting  him 
with  two  sons  and  four  daughters.  But  his  domestic  feli- 
city in  the  marriage,  for  which  the  outrage  perpetrated 
upon  Cecilia  di  Abano  had  made  room,  did  not  soften  the 
offended  husband's  resentment  against  the  Camposanpietros 
—  for  to  the  whole  family  he  imputed  the  scheme  —  or 
shake  his  determination  not  to  be  insulted  with  impunity, 
even  by  his  nephew.  He  took  vengeance  in  kind.  He  se- 
duced or  forcibly  carried  off  Maria  di  Camposanpietro,  a 
near  relative  of  Gerardo,  and  kept  her  openly  as  a  concu- 
bine in  one  of  his  castles,  until  she  had  borne  him  a  daugh- 
ter. Then,  retaining  the  child,  he  dismissed  the  helplessly 
wretched  mother  to  the  infamy  and  misery  he  had  design- 
edly brought  upon  her.  The  enmity  between  the  two  fam- 
ilies, so  near  akin  in  disposition  and  blood,  necessarily 
continued  for  many  years,  ever  generating  fresh  crimes, 
and  ever  increasing  in  virulence.  But  one  nefarious  attempt, 
of  which  they  might  fairly  be  suspected,  is  more  generally 
imputed  to  the  Marquess  of  Este.  In  the  winter  of  the 
year  1206,  Ezzelino,  visiting  Venice  to  enjoy  the  pleasures 


Sordello.  387 

of  the  Carnival,  was  disporting  himself  in  the  Piazza  di  San 
Marco,  with  eleven  of  his  knights,  clad  exactly  like  himself, 
and  all  masked,  when  they  were  suddenly  attacked  by 
assassins  ;  and  one  of  the  party,  Buonaccorsio  di  Treviso, 
being  mistaken  for  Ezzelino,  was  slain.  The  professional 
murderers  who  had  struck  the  fatal  blow,  presently  discov- 
ering their  blunder,  returned  in  haste  to  remedy  it,  by  kill- 
ing as  well  the  prescribed  as  the  unintended.  The  Mar- 
quess of  Este,  who  —  whether  casually,  or  as  one  of  his 
friend  and  brother-in-law  Ezzelino's  party — was  present, 
endeavored,  by  throwing  his  arms  about  Ezzelino  with  a 
show  of  protecting  him,  really  so  to  fetter  his  movements  as 
to  baffle  his  efforts  to  defend  himself.  But  Ezzelino  broke 
from  the  treacherous  embrace,  his  friends  gathered  around 
him,  and  the  bravoes  were  overpowered." 

Eccelin  IV.,  something  of  whose  career  has  already  been 
indicated,  was  for  a  long  period  the  chief  ruler  in  North- 
eastern Italy,  nearly  the  whole  of  which  was  under  his 
powerful  sway.  The  brutality  he  displayed  in  the  treat- 
ment of  his  wives  was  characteristic  of  the  man,  for  he  was 
one  of  the  most  cruel  and  bloodthirsty  men  of  whom  history 
informs  us.  He  and  his  brother  Alberico  belonged  to  the 
Ghibelline  party,  and  were  among  the  most  devoted  sup- 
porters of  the  cause  of  the  emperor.  In  1225  he  was 
elected  the  podesta  of  Verona,  and  soon  after  he  enter- 
tained Frederick  splendidly  in  that  city.  He  fought  the 
battles  of  the  emperor  against  the  Guelfs  led  by  Este,  and 
from  him  took  the  city  of  Padua.  As  a  reward  for  his 
zealous  service  Frederick  gave  Eccelin  in  marriage  his  nat- 
ural daughter  Selvaggia,  and  knighted  him  with  the  imperial 
hand.  He  became  the  podesta  of  Padua,  and  there  in  1239 
a  costly  and  magnificent  display  was  made  when  Frederick 
visited  the  city.  Step  by  step  Eccelin  built  up  his  power, 
sometimes  fairly,  more  often  by  treachery,  and  frequently 
by  sanguinary  conflict  and  cruelty.  He  ruled  for  the  good 
of  the  cities  under  him,  however,  established  order,  and  pro- 
duced a  general  prosperity.  By  1254  he  was  the  ruler  of 
the  whole  of  the  Northeast  of  Italy,  and  he  even  aspired  to 
make  himself  free  of  the  emperor,  and  to  establish  for  him- 
self an  independent  kingdom.  "  He  was  Lord  of  almost  a'l 
that  subsequently  constituted  the  continental  dominions  of 


388  Sordello. 

Venice,  with  the  Southern  or  Italian  part  of  the  Tyrol. 
But  as  his  power  increased,  his  character  seems  gradually 
to  have  deteriorated  ;  a  desire  for  despotic  authority  keep- 
ing pace  with  that  increase.  His  despotism  provoked  re- 
bellions, or  rather  plots  for  the  assassination  of  the  dreaded 
despot,  the  form  rebellion  was  apt  to  take  in  early  times 
and  in  small  states  ;  whilst  the  severity,  with  which  such 
plots,  when  detected,  were  punished,  provoked  new  plots, 
till  despotism  became  tyranny.  Yet  worse,  perhaps,  the 
base  adulation  resorted  to  by  many,  in  the  hope  of  averting 
suspicion  or  winning  favor,  inspired  a  contempt  for  man- 
kind, that  hardened  Eccelin's  heart.  And  now  his  strict 
and  vigorous  administration  of  justice,  especially  against 
robbery,  and  his  absence  from  the  sensual  excesses,  then  so 
prevalent,  are  said  to  have  been  the  only  good  qualities  left 
to  balance  the  ruthlessly  sanguinary  cruelty,  staining  the 
once  gallant,  clement,  magnificent,  and  cheerful  husband 
of  a  glorious  Emperor's  beautiful  daughter.  But  Eccelin 
himself  appears,  even  upon  the  testimony  of  his  enemies,  to 
have  been  convinced  that  his  cruelty  was  simply  inexorable 
justice.  He  held  himself  a  second  Attila,  '  the  scourge  of 
God  ;  '  saying :  '  The  sins  of  the  people  call  for  the  ven- 
geance of  Heaven,  and  to  inflict  it  are  we  sent  into  the 
world.'  Again,  hearing  that  in  a  satire  he  had  been  called 
a  hawk,  whom  doves  had  made  their  king,  he  observed  :  *  I 
am  no  hawk  who  devours  his  doves,  but  the  father  of  a 
family,  who  must  clear  his  house  of  serpents,  scorpions, 
and  other  noxious  reptiles.'  He  was  steadily  loyal  to  his 
brother-in-law,  Conrad ;  but,  after  his  death,  persevering  in 
the  refusal  to  acknowledge  William  of  Holland,  and  no 
scion  of  the  Swabian  dynasty  then  claiming  the  Empire,  he 
felt  that  he  had  no  sovereign,  and  assumed  independence." 
This  claim  of  independent  authority  was  the  occasion  of 
the  downfall  of  Eccelin.  His  tyranny  became  oppressive  ; 
lie  put  his  nephews  over  the  cities  of  his  kingdom,  and  they 
imitated  his  worst  faults,  with  none  of  his  virtues.  His 
enemies  organized  against  him  ;  one  city  after  another  was 
captured  or  fell  away  from  him.  In  a  hard-fought  battle 
in  1259  he  was  made  a  prisoner,  tore  the  bandages  from 
his  wounds,  and  died.  His  brother  Alberico  suffered  an 
even  worse  death,  for  he  saw  all  his  many  children  slain  in 


Sorddlo.  389 

the  most  cruel  manner,  and  then  was  brutally  killed  him- 
self.    Thus  fell  the  powerful  house  of  the  Romanos. 

Eccelin  was  called  by  his  enemies  the  Son  of  the  Devil, 
and  the  designation  was  wholly  just.  Dark  and  dreadful 
stories  are  told  of  his  cruelty,  his  fierce  tyranny,  and  his 
love  of  shedding  human  blood.  Ariosto  called  him 

"  Fierce  Eccelin,  that  most  unhuman  lord, 
Who  shall  be  deemed  by  men  a  child  of  hell." 

Sismondi,  in  the  nineteenth  chapter  of  his  History  of  the 
Italian  Republics,  has  given  an  account  of  the  life  of 
Eccelin.  His  character  is  also  described  in  the  first  volume 
of  Symonds'  Renaissance  in  Italy.  Sismondi  says  he 
"  was  small  of  stature,  but  the  whole  aspect  of  his  person, 
all  his  movements,  indicated  the  soldier.  His  language  was 
bitter,  his  countenance  proud ;  and  by  a  single  look  he  made 
the  proudest  tremble.  His  soul,  so  greedy  of  all  crimes, 
felt  no  attraction  for  sensual  pleasures.  He  was  as  pitiless 
against  women  as  against  men.  He  was  in  his  sixty-sixth 
year  when  he  died  ;  and  his  reign  of  blood  had  lasted 
thirty-four  years."  He  died,  as  he  had  lived,  a  hater  of 
men,  defiant,  and  fierce.  Dante  puts  him,  along  with  his 
relative,  Azzo  of  Este,  among  the  tyrants  who  in  Purgatory 
expiate  their  crimes  in  a  river  of  boiling  blood.  It  is  this 
terrible  Eccelin  who  is  made  by  Browning  to  take  up  the 
work  which  Sordello  ought  to  have  undertaken ;  and  be- 
cause Sordello  failed  to  accomplish  it  the  tyrant  had  his 
opportunity. 

Browning  changes  the  name  of  Cunizza  to  Palma  for 
some  unexplained  reason.  Very  curiously  Dante  places 
her  in  Paradise,  because  she  had  loved  much.  In  Canto 
IX.  she  appears  to  Beatrice  and  Dante,  and  explains  how 
it  was  possible  for  her  to  be  in  heaven,  who  had  been  so  far 
from  good  on  earth.  Her  love  placed  her  in  the  heaven  of 
Venus, 

"  Because  the  splendor  of  the  star  o'ercame  me." 

Roland  ino,  one  of  the  early  chroniclers,  says  that  she  was 
first  married  to  Richard,  Count  of  St.  Boniface,  and  that 
soon  after  she  had  an  intrigue  with  Sordello.  This  simply 
means  that  he  was  Cunizza's  cavalier,  after  the  fashion  of 
this  age  of  chivalry  and  troubadours,  or  her  lover  according 


390  Sordello. 

to  the  forms  of  gallantry.  Then  she  wandered  about  the 
world  with  Bonius,  a  soldier  of  Treviso,  and  spent  much 
money.  When  Bonius  died  she  married  a  nobleman  of 
Braganza ;  and  later  on  she  became  the  wife  of  a  gentleman 
of  Verona.  An  early  commentator  on  Dante  says  that 
"  this  lady  lived  lovingly  in  dress,  song,  and  sport ;  but 
consented  not  to  impropriety  or  any  unlawful  act ;  and  she 
passed  her  life  in  enjoyment." 

One  of  the  leading  followers  of  Eccelin  III.,  and  also  of 
his  son,  was  Taurello  Salinguerra.  One  legend  indicates 
that  he  was  the  father  of  Sordello,  and  this  has  been  adopted 
by  Browning. 

Salinguerra  belonged  to  the  family  of  the  Torelli,  one  of 
the  two  leading  families  of  Ferrara.  He  married  a  daughter 
of  Eccelin  the  Monk,  and  he  became  the  ruler  of  his  native 
city.  Under  his  mild  and  beneficent  rule  it  rose  to  great 
prosperity,  its  fairs  were  attended  from  every  part  of 
Europe,  and  it  grew  rapidly  in  wealth.  Salinguerra  was 
liberal,  opened  his  granaries  to  the  poor,  and  was  beloved 
by  his  people.  The  people  of  Ferrara  became  so  prosperous 
they  grew  impatient  of  the  rule  of  Venice,  which  claimed 
sovereignty  over  them,  and  they  asked  for  various  conces- 
sions. Venice  thereupon  made  war  on  Ferrara,  laid  siege 
to  it,  and  when  Salinguerra  went  out  to  surrender  the  city 
made  him  a  prisoner.  He  was  sent  to  Venice,  and  placed  in 
prison,  where  he  remained  for  four  years.  He  had  already 
become  very  aged  when  imprisoned  ;  and  he  died  in  1244. 
He  appears  to  have  been  as  noble  a  man,  and  as  kindly  a 
ruler,  as  the  times  produced,  showing  a  remarkable  contrast 
to  his  brother-in-law,  Eccelin  the  Tyrant.  See  the  third  vol- 
ume of  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  twelve,  for 
a  paper  by  Mr.  W.  M.  Rossetti,  in  which  he  translates  Mura- 
tori's  contemporary  account  of  Taurello  Salinguerra. 

These  persons  of  the  poem  belonged  to  the  Ghibelline 
party.  Of  the  Guelfs  Browning  mentions  Pope  Honorius 
III.,  and  also  the  Lombard  nobles  Azzo,  marquis  of  Este, 
and  Richard,  count  of  St.  Boniface.  Both  these  lords  were 
connected  with  the  Romanos  by  marriage,  but  neverthe- 
less they  were  of  the  Guelf  party  ;  arid  their  enmity  seems 
to  have  been  all  the  more  bitter  because  of  their  relation- 
ship. 


Bordello.  391 

Page  193.  Pentapolin  of  the  Naked  Arm.  See  Don 
Quixote,  1 : 11 ;  Antiquary,  b.  2,  chap.  30  ;  St.  Ronaris 
Well  chap.  30. 

197.  John  of  Brienne.  King  of  Jerusalem  and  leader 
of  the  fifth  crusade.  Frederick  II.  married  his  daughter. 
See  Gibhon,  chap.  61.  John  was  elected  emperor  of  Con- 
stantinople in  1229. 

206.  Nicolo.  The  sculptor  of  Pisa ;  see  Old  Pictures 
in  Florence,  in  this  volume.  —  Guid,one.  A  Sienese  painter 
of  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century.  His  Virgin 
was  painted  in  1221.  See  Mrs.  Jameson's  Legends  of  the 
Madonna.  —  See  Mrs.  Clement's  Christian  Symbols  for  an 
account  of  Saint  Eufemia,  who  was  a  Greek  martyr  of  the 
fourth  century.  —  Mad  Lucius  and  sage  Antonine.  Lucius 
Verus  and  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus  were  joint  emperors 
of  Rome  in  the  second  century.  Verus  was  as  bad  as  An- 
toninus was  noble. 

208.  The  adventurous  spider  belongs  to  some  species  of 
Orbweaver,  Orbitelarice.     It  is  called  by  the  various  names 
of  garden,  geometric,  diadem,  and  cross-spider.     This  spider 
swathes  his    prey  rojund    and  round  with  his  web,  and  it 
makes  a  long  bridge  with  its  web  on  which  it  goes  from 
point  to  point.     The  poet  is  wrong,  however,  in  supposing 
that  the  spider  can  shoot  its  web  to  great  distances.     See 
Poet-Lore,  1 : 486. 

209.  Naddo.     The  typical  critic   or  Philistine  ;  wholly 
imaginary.     "  The  personification  of  general  common-sense 
and  average  public  opinion,"  says  Miss  Wall.     He  is  Sor- 
dello's  friend  and  adviser,  but  "  he  is  employed  as  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  Philistines,  and  in  his  mouth  are  put  the 
comments  of  superficial  wisdom,"  says  Alexander.     Other 
imaginary  names  are  associated  with  his  on  page  218. 

212.  Miramoline.  A  Moslem  prince,  whos'e  territory  was 
situated  in  Northern  Africa. 

217.  Court  of  Love.  A  poetical  contest  between  several 
troubadours,  to  see  which  could  produce  the  best  poem. 
The  decision  was  rendered  by  some  lady  of  beauty  and 
rank,  who  presided  over  the  contest  and  made  its  laws. 
See  Rutherford's  Troubadours,  and  Hueffer's  Troubadours. 
Hueffer  proves  that  the  court  of  love  never  had  an  existence. 
—  Elys.  "  Any  woman  of  the  then  prevailing  type  of  Italian 


392  Sordello. 

beauty,  having  fair  hair,  and  a  '  pear-shaped '  face."  [Mrs. 
Orr.] 

218.  Naddo,  Squarcilupe,  etc.  See,  in  this  book,  note 
in  regard  to  page  209  of  Sordello. 

227.  Rondel,  tenzon,  virlai  or  sirvent.  Forms  of  verse 
used  by  the  jongleurs  and  troubadours.  See  Hueffer's 
Troubadours,  in  which  several  chapters  are  devoted  to 
these  forms  of  verse. 

230.  Will.    "  In  this  passage  the  word  '  will '  is  used  in  a 
peculiar  and  somewhat  undefinable  sense,  in  which  it  reap- 
pears throughout  the  poem.     It  means  the  power  in  virtue 
of  which  we  feel  potentially  an  experience  or  quality ;  i.  e., 
while  one  may  not  actually  realize  a  thing,  he  feels  that  he 
has  the  spiritual  capacity  to  realize  it."    [Alexander.]    "  In 
this,  as  in  other  places  in  this  poem,  Browning  seems  to  use 
the  word    will '  as  equivalent  to  imagination  and  the  capa- 
city to  realize  in  himself  all  his  images."     [Wall.] 

231.  Pierre    Vidal.     A  troubadour  whose  behavior  was 
very  remarkable,  and  who  followed  Richard  the  Lion-Heart 
on  the  third  crusade.     See  Hueffer  and  Rutherford. 

233.  Bocafoli  and  Plara.  "  Purely  supposititious  poets. 
Browning  chooses  to  invent  them  as  types  of  two  opposite 
poetic  defects ;  Bocafoli  as  the  writer  of  stark-naked  or 
totally  jejune  and  inartistic  psalms  ;  Plara  as  the  writer  of 
petted  and  over-finikin  sonnets."  [W.  M.  Rossetti.] 

233.  Almug  tree.     See  2  Chronicles  ix.  10,  11. 

241.  Enrico  Dandolo.  Doge  of  Venice.  With  Baldwin 
of  Flanders  he  led  the  fourth  crusade  and  conquered  Con- 
stantinople, and  Baldwin  was  placed  on  the  throne. 

249.  Adelaide  of  Susa.  A  great  baroness  of  Lombardy, 
and  one  of  the  chief  supporters  of  the  pope. 

249.  Matilda.  Countess  of  Tuscany,  the  friend  of  Hilde- 
brand  or  Gregory  VII. ,  at  whose  castle  of  Canossa  Henry 
IV.  obtained,  on  his  knees  and  after  the  deepest  degrada- 
tion, the  forgiveness  of  the  pope. 

259.  Patron-friend.     Walter  Savage  Landor. 

260.  Eyebright.     "  Stands   for  '  Euphrasia,'   its   Greek 
equivalent,   and  refers   to   one  of    Mr.    Browning's   oldest 
friends."     [Mrs.  Orr.  ] 

261.  Xanthus.     See  A  Death  in  the  Desert  and  the 
notes  thereon. 


Sordello.  393 

262.  Carroch.  The  wagon  which  bore  the  war-standard 
into  battle  ;  it  was  very  large,  zealously  guarded,  and  con- 
tained a  cross  and  a  great  bell. 

266.  Misery.  See  legend  of  Misery  and  her  apple  tree, 
in  Mrs.  Palliser's  Brittany  and  its  Byways,  and  Crane's 
Italian  Popular  Tales. 

272.  Heinrich.     Henry,  son  of  Frederick  I.,  who  mar- 
ried Constance,  queen  of  the  Norman  kingdom  of  Lower 
Italy  and  Sicily. 

273.  Podesta.     Title  of  the  ruler  of  a  city. 
279.  Lentisk.     The  mastich  tree. 

282.  Crescentius  Nomentanus.  In  998  "  Rome  made 
a  bold  attempt  to  shake  off  the  Saxon  yoke,  and  the  consul 
Crescentius  was  the  Brutus  of  the  Republic.  From  the 
condition  of  a  subject  and  an  exile,  he  twice  rose  to  the 
command  of  the  city,  oppressed,  expelled,  and  created  the 
popes,  and  formed  a  conspiracy  for  restoring  the  authority 
of  the  Greek  emperors.  In  the  fortress  of  St.  Angelo,  he 
maintained  an  obstinate  siege,  till  the  unfortunate  consul 
was  betrayed  by  a  promise  of  safety  ;  his  body  was  sus- 
pended on  a  gibbet,  and  his  head  was  exposed  on  the  battle- 
ments of  the  castle."  [Gibbon,  chap.  49.] 

285.  Tables  of  the  Mauritanian  tree.  Tables  of  citrus- 
wood  were  very  costly  articles  of  luxury  in  Rome. 

287.  Alcamo  and  Nina.     "  Names  connected  with  early 
Italian  poetry  in  Sicily ;  but  Nina  the  poetess,  in  Crescim- 
beni  and  Sismondi,  becomes  Nina  the  poet  in  Mr.  Brown- 
ing."    [Church.] 

288.  Three  Imperial  crowns.     "  The  crown  of  the  Ger- 
man kingdom  taken  at  Aachen,  of  Lombardy  at  Milan, 
and  of  the  Empire  at  Rome.     They  were  said  to  be  respec- 
tively of  silver,  iron,  and  gold.     Not  quite  in  the  order  of 
the  text.     The  terms  were  probably  employed  symbolically, 
as  indicating  the  estimation  in  which  each  was  held  at  that 
time."     [Wall.] 

298.  The  all-transmuting  Triad.  See  Ruskin's  Stones 
of  Venice,  vol.  ii.  chap.  4,  for  an  account  of  St.  Mark's. 
Browning  has  evidently  combined  the  several  symbols  in 
St.  Mark's  to  suit  his  own  purposes. 

306.  Swooning-sphere.  "  Why  is  Cunizza's  sphere  the 
'  swooning  -  sphere '?"  asks  Church;  but  he  furnishes  no 


394  Sordello. 

answer.     The  reference  is  to  Dante's  account  of  Cunizza  in 
his  Paradiso. 

310.  Cydippe  and  Agathon.     See  Ovid.     Browning  has 
changed  Acantius  into  Agathon. 

311.  Dularete.     An  imaginary  bard. 

325.  Sordello,  Prince  Visconti.  "The  chronicles  of 
Mantua  tell  how  Sordello,  Prince  Visconti,  saved  that  city 
and  elsewhere  distinguished  himself  greatly  ;  that  he  was 
famous  as  a  minstrel  and  fortunate  as  a  lover ;  he  was 
praised  for  the  very  things  he  never  did  and  never  could 
have  done."  [Wall.] 

Sordello's  Story  retold  in  Prose,  by  Annie  Wall,  gives 
an  excellent  historical  introduction  to  the  poem,  a  skillfully 
told  outline  of  the  story  and  a  study  of  the  character  of 
Sordello.  For  students  this  is  the  most  helpful  book  on  the 
poem.  Holland's  Stories  from  Browniny  gives  a  brief  but 
clear  historical  outline  ;  this  was  first  printed  in  separate 
form.  Mrs.  C.  H.  Dall's  little  book  gives  the  fullest  infor- 
mation about  the  poet  Sordello,  as  well  as  a  good  analysis 
of  the  poem. 

The  study  of  the  poem  in  Dean  Church's  Dante  and 
Other  Essays  is  one  of  the  best.  That  by  Edward  Dow- 
den,  in  Fraser's  Magazine,  76 :  518,  reprinted  in  his  Re- 
scripts and  Studies,  is  the  best  for  an  exposition  of  the  pur- 
pose had  in  view  by  the  poet.  The  chapter  on  the  poem  in 
Alexander's  Introduction  to  Browning  is  thoroughly  good, 
and  has  been  reprinted  in  separate  form  by  the  London 
Browning  Society.  The  studies  of  the  poem  by  Nettleship, 
in  his  Essays  and  Thoughts;  by  Mrs.  Orr,  in  her  Hand- 
book ;  by  Jeanie  Morison,  in  her  Analysis  of  Sordello,  are 
of  value.  Also  see  Macmillan's  Magazine,  R.  W.  Church, 
55  :  241 ;  The  Academy,  J.  A.  Blaikie,  22  :  287  ;  The 
Browning  Society's  Papers,  M.  D.  Conway,  2:1*;  A.  C. 
Swinburne's  introduction  to  his  Works  of  George  Chap- 
man ;  Kingsland's  Chief  Poet  of  the  Age. 

VARIOUS    READINGS. 

Under  the  heading,  "  Changed  rhymes  and  fresh  lines  in 
Sordello,"  Furnivall's  Bibliography  of  Robert  Browning 
gives  a  full  list  of  the  changes  made  in  the  revised  form  of 
Sordello,  and  they  are  here  reproduced  word  for  word. 


Sordello. 


395 


BOOK  I. 


ed.  1840. 

p.  13 

.  .  .  men's  flesh  is  meant 
Ecelin  lifts  two  writhen  hands  to  pray 


ed.  18C3,  vol.  iii.  ed.  1868,  vol.  ii. 

p.  262  p.  13 

.  .  the  man's  flesh  went 
While  his  lord  lifted  writhen  hands  to 

pray, 
Lost  at  Oliero  s  convent. 

Hill-cats,  face 
With  ['68  Our'}  Azzo,  our  Guelf-Lion  I 


chants 
Ere  Richard  storms  Ferrara. 


At  Oliero's  convent  now  :  so  place 
For  Azzo,  Lion  of  the 

BOOK  II. 
No  changes  of  rhyme  were  made  in  this  book,  and  no  fresh  lines  were  added. 

BOOK  HI. 

ed.  1840.  ed.  1863,  vol.  iii.  ed.  1868,  vol.  ii. 

p.  97  p.  332-33 

A  week  since  at  Verona :  and  she  wants      and  they  want 

You  doubtless  to  contrive  the  marriage-      You  doubtless  to  contrive  the  marriage- 
chant 

Ere  Richard  storms  Ferrara." 
[New  in  1863]   Here  ['68  Then]  was 
told  p.  83 

The    tale    from   the   beginning  —  how, 

made  bold 
By  Salinguerra's  absence,   Guelfs   had 

burned 

And  pillaged  till  he  unawares  returned 
To   take  revenge :    how  Azzo  and  his 

friend 

Were  doing  their  endeavour,  how  the  end 
Of  the  siege  was    nigh,   and  now  the 

Count,  released 

From  further  care,  would  with  his  mar- 
riage-feast 

Inaugurate  a  new  and  better  rule, 
Absorbing  thus  Romano. 

"  Shall  I  school 

p.  84 

My  master,"  added  Naddo,  "and  sug- 
gest 

How  you  may  clothe  in  a  poetic  vest 
These  doings  at  Verona  ? 

p.  337  p.  88 

Mine  and  Romano's  ?    Break  the  first 

wall  through, 

Tread  o'er  the  ruins  of  the  Chief,  sup- 
plant 
His  sons  beside,  still,  vainest  were  the 

vaunt : 
p.  342  p.  93 

A  month  since  at  Oliero  s?unk 
All  that  was  Ecelin  into  a  monk  ; 

p.  346  p.  97 

In  "  Charlemague,"  (his  poem,  dreamed 

divine 
In  every  point  except  one  silly  line 


p.  102 

Romano's  lord  !    That  Chief — her  chil- 
dren too  — 1868,  ii.  88. 


p.  108 

...  A  month  since  Oliero  sunk 
All  Ecelin  that  was  into  a  Monk  ; 

p.  113 
In     "  Charlemagne,"     for     instance, 

dreamed  divine 
In  every  point  except  one  restive  line 


(Those  daughters !)  —  what  significance      About  the  restiff  daughters)  —  what  may 

may  lurk  lurk 

In   that?    My  life  commenced  before      In  that?"  " My  life  commenced  before 
that  work,  this  work," 

(So  I  interpret  the  significance 
Of  the  bard's  start  aside  and  look  a- 
skance) 


396 


Sordello. 


ed.  1840. 

p.  113-14 

Continues  after  it,  as  on  I  fare 
To  meditate  with  us  eternal  rest  ? 
Strike  sail,  slip  cable  !  here  the  galley's 
moored. 


p.  116 

(at  home  we  dizen  scholars,  chiefs  and 
kings, 


ed.  1863,  vol.  iii.  ed.  1868,  vol.  ii. 

p.  347  p.  98 

My  life,  continues  after  :  on  I  fare 
To  meditate  with  us  eternal  rest, 
And   partnership  in  all    his  life    has 

found  ?  " 
'Tis  but  a  sailor's   promise,  weather- 

bound 
'  Strike  sail,  slip  cable,  here  the  bark  be 

moored. 

p.  349  p.  100 

For,  these  in   evidence,   you   clearlier 

claim 


But  in  this  magic  weather  hardly  clings     A  like  garb  for  the  rest,  —grace  all,  the 


The  old  garb  gracefully  :  Venice,  a  type 


p.  116-17 


same 
As  these  my  peasants.    I  ask  youth  and 

strength 
And  health  for  each  of  you,  not  more  — 

at  length 
Grown  wise,  who  asked  at  home  that  the 

whole  race 
Might  add  the   spirit's   to   the  body's 

grace, 
And  all  be  dizened  out  as  chiefs  and 

bards. 

But  in  this  magic  weather  one  discards 
Much  old  requirement.     Venice  seems  a 

type 
p.  349-50  p.  101 


Or  slay  me,  thrid  her  cross  canals  alone,      Or  keep  me  to  the  unchoked  canals  alone, 
As  hinder  Life  what  seems   the  single      As  hinder  Life  the  evil  with  the  good 


good 
Sole  purpose,  one  thing  to  be  understood 


Which  make  up  Living,  rightly  under- 
stood. 


Of  Life)  —  best,  be  they  Peasants,  be  they      Only,   do  finish  something  !    Peasants, 


Queens, 


queens, 


Take    them,  I  say,  made    happy  any      Take  them,   made  happy  by  whatever 


means, 

p.  120 
A  hungry  sun  above  us,  sands  among 

p.  127 

In  unexpanded  infancy,  assure 
Yourself  nor  misconceive  my  portraiture 


means, 
p.  353 


p.  1041 


A  hungry  sun  above  us,  sands  that  bung 
p.  358  p.  109 

In  unexpanded  infancy,  unless  .  .  . 
But  that  's  the  story,  —  dull  enough,  con- 

fess .' 

There  might  be  fitter  subjects  to  allure; 
Still,  neither  misconceive  my  portraiture 


BOOK  IV. 


ed.  1840. 
p.  141 
What  booted  scattered  brilliances?  the 

mind 
Of  any  number  he  might  hope  to  bind 

And  stamp  with  his  own  thought,  how- 
e'er  august 


ed.  1863,  vol.  iii.  ed.  1868,  vol.  ii. 

p.  370  p.  120 

What  booted  scattered  units?   here  a 

mind 
And  there,  which  might  repay  his  own 

to  find 
And  stamp  and  use  f  —  a  few,  howe'er 

august 


If  all  the  rest  should  grovel  in  the  dust  ?      If  all  the  rest  were  grovelling  in  the 


p.  142 

With  good    to   them  as   well,    and   he 
should  be 


dust? 

p.  370  p.  121 

With  incidental  good  to  them  as  well 
And  that  mankind's  delight  would  help 

to  swell 
His  own.    So  if  he  sighed,  as  formerly 


Rejoiced  thereat,  and  if,  as  formerly 

1  On  p.  106  is  a  misprint  in  a  rhyme  :  '  She  shut[s] 


Sordello. 


397 


ed.  1840. 

He  sighed  the  merry  time  of  life  must 
fleet, 

else  why  are 
The  great  ado 
p.  146 


A  drear  vast  presence-chamber  roughly 

set 
In  order  for  this  morning's  use;    you 

met 


The  grim  black  twy-necked  eagle 


p.  149 

Therefore  he  smiled 
p.  150 

Straight  a  meeting  of  old  men : 
[t  1868,  Salinguerra'sJ 

The  Lombard  eagle  of  the  azure  sphere 
With  Italy  to  build  in,  builds  he  here  ? 
This  deemed —  the  other  owned  upon 

advice  — 

A  third  reflected  on  the  matter  twice 
p.  152 

When,  as  Us  Podesta 
Regaled  him  at  Vicenza,  Este,  there 


With  Boniface  beforehand,  each  aware 
p.  152 

deep  sunk, 
A  very  pollard  mortised  in  a  trunk 

Which  Arabs  out  of  wantonness  contrive 
Shall  dwindle,  that  the  alien  stock  may 
thrive 


ed.  18R3,  vol.  iii.  ed.  1868,  vol.  ii. 

p.  371 

Because  the  merry  time  of  life  must 
fleet 

p.  122 
why  the  jar 
Else — the  ado 

p.  374  p.  125 

These  spokesmen  for  the  Kaiser  and  the 

Pope 

This  incarnation  of  the  People's  hope, 
Sordello,  all  the  say  of  each  was  said 
And  Salinguerra  sat,  himself  instead 
Of  these  to  talk  with,  lingered  musing 

yet. 
'T  was  a  drear  vast  presence-chamber 

roughly  set 
In  order  for  the  morning's  use  ;  full  face 

The  Kaiser's  ominous   sign-mark  had 

first  place, 
The  crowned  grim  twy-necked  eagle 

p.  376-77  p.  127-28 

How  his  life-streams  rolling  arrived  at 

last 
At  the  barrier,   whence,  were  it   once 

overpast 

They  would  emerge,  a  river  to  the  end, 
Gathered  themselves  up,  paused,  bade 

fate  befriend, 
Took  the  leap,  hung  a  minute   at    the 

height, 

Then  fell  back  to  oblivion  infinite : 
Therefore  he  smiled 
p.  378  p.  129 

Straight  a  meeting  of  old  meu : 
"  Old  Salinguerra^  dead,  his  heir  a  boy, 
"  What  if  we  change  our  ruler  and  decoy 
The  Lombard  eagle  of  the  azure  sphero, 
With  Italy  to  build  in,  fix  him  here 
Settle  the  city's  troubles  in  a  trice  f 
for  private    wrong,    let  public   good 

suffice ! " 
p.  379  p.  130 

When  the  Podesta 

TScelin,  at  Vicenza,  called  his  friend 
Tourello  thither,  what  could   be   their 

end 

But  to  restore  the  GhibelMns'  late  Head, 
The  Kaiser  helping  f    He  with  most  to 

dread 
From   vengeance   and   reprisal,  Azzo, 

there 

With  Boniface  beforehand,  as  aware 
p.  380  p.  131 

which  shrunk 
As  the  other  prospered  —  mortised  in  his 

trunk ; 
Like  a  dwarf  palm  which  wanton  Arabs 

foil 

Of  bearing  its  own  proper  wine  and  oil, 
By  grafting  into  it  the  stranger-vine, 
Which  sucks  its  heart  out,  sly  and  ser' 

pentine 


398 


Sordello. 


ed.  1840. 
p.  153 
Only,  Roman  Salinguerra  screens. 


Heinrich  was  somewhat  of  the  tardiest 

To  comprehend, 
p.  154 


ed.  1863,  vol.  iii.  ed.  1868,  vol.  ii. 

p.  381  p.  132 

"Only,  why  is  it  Salinguerra  screens 
Himself    behind   Romano  t  —  him   we 

bade 
Enjoy  our  shine  V  the  front,  nor  seek 

the  shade!'1'' 
—  Asked   Heinrich,    somewhat    of   the 

tardiest 

To  comprehend, 
p.  382  p.  133 


In  contracts,  while  through  Arab  lore,      In   contracts    with   him,   while,    since 


deter 


p.  156 
now  cringe,  sue  peace,  but  peace 


Arab  lore 
Holds  the  stars'1  secret  —  take  one  trouble 

more 
And  master  it  !    'T  is  done,  and  now 

deter 
p.  383  p.  134 

now  cringe  for  peace,  sue  peace 


At  price  of    all   advantage;    therefore      At  price  of  past  gain,  bar  of  fresh  in 


cease 
The  fortunes  of  Romano  ! 

p.  158 
'T  was  leaned  in  the  embrasure  presently 

p.  165 
Enormous  water  current,  his  sole  track 

p.  167 


crease 
To  the  fortunes  of  Romano. 

p.  385  p.  136 

'T  was  leaned  in  the  embrasure  absently 

p.  391  p.  142 

Enormous  watercourse  which  guides  him 

back 
p.  393  p.  144 


As  though  it  bore  a  burden,  which  could     As  though  it  bore  up,  helped  some  half- 


tame 
p.  171 
And  structures  that  inordinately  glov 


orbed  flame 
p.  3%  p.  147 

New  structures,  that  inordinately  glow, 
Subdued,  brought  back  to  harmony,  made 

ripe 

By  many  a  relic  of  the  archetype 
Extant   for     wonder;    every     upstart 

church 
That  hoped  to  leave  old  temples  in  the 

lurch 


BOOK  V  (collated  by  the  Rev.  T.  W.  Carson). 


ed.  1840. 
p.  173-74 


He  that  sprawls 


ed.  1863,  vol.  iii. 
p.  398 


He  that  sprawls 


On  aught  but  a  stibadium  suffers  .  .  .      On  aught  but  a  stibadium  .  .  .  u-hnt  his 


goose, 
Pattest  our  lustral  vase  to  such  an  use  ? 

p.  175 
And  Rome    's   accomplished!     Better 

(say  you)  merge 

At  once  all  workmen  in  the  demiurge, 
All  epochs  in  a  life-time,  and  all  task* 
In  one :  undoubtedly  the  city  basks 


p.  176 


Sordello,  wake ! 


dues 

Who  puts  the  lustral  vase  to  such  an 

use  ? 
p.  400 

That  way  was  Rome  built.     "Better, 
(say  you)  merge 

At  once  all  workmen  in  the  demiurge, 

All  epochs  in  a  life-time,  every  task 

In  one !  "    So  should  the  sudden  city 

bask 
p.  401  "  Sordello,  wake  ! 

God  has  conceded  two  sights  to  a  man 

One,  of  men's  whole  work,  time's  com- 
pleted plan, 

The  other  of  the  minute'1  f  work,  man's 
first 

Step  to  the  plan's  completeness :  what  Js 
dispersed 

Save  hope  of  that  supreme  step  which, 
descried 

Earliest,  was  meant  still  to  remain  un- 
tried 


Sordello. 


399 


ed.  1840. 


p.  177-78 

Where  is  the  Vanity? 

An  elder  poet 's  in  the  younger's  place  — 

Take  Nina's  strength  —  but  lose  Alca- 
mffl's  grace  ? 

Each  neutralizes  each  then !  gaze  your 
fill; 

Search  further,  and  the  past  presents 
you  still 

New  Ninas,  new  Alcamas,  time's  mid- 
night 

Concluding,  — better  say  its  evenlight 

Of  yesterday.     You,  now,  in  this  respect 
Of  benefiting  people  (to  reject 
The  favour  of  your  fearful  ignorance 
A  thousand  phantasms  eager  to  advance, 

Refer  you  but  to   those  within   your 

reach) 
Were  you  the  first  who  got,  to  use  plain 

speech, 
The  Multitude  to  be  materialized  ? 

p.  180 
The  couple  there  alone  help  Gregory  ? 

Hark  —  from  the  hermit  Peter's   thin 

sad  cry 
p.  181 

trail  plenteous  o'er  the  ground 
Fine-like,  produced  by  joy  and  sorrow, 
whence 


Unfeeling   and   yet   feeling,   strongest 

thence : 
p.  183 
Rather  than  doing  these  :  now  —  fancy's 

trade 
[Is   ended,  mind,   nor  one   half   may 

evade] 


p.  191 

And   round   those    three    the    People 
formed  a  ring, 


Suspended  their  own  vengeance,  chose 
await 


ed.  1863,  vol.  iii. 

Only  to  give  you  heart  to  take  your  own 

Step,  and  there  stay — leaving  the  rets 

alone  ? 
p.  402 

Where  is  the  Vanity  ? 

An  elder  poet  in  the  younger's  place.  — 

Nina's  the  strength  —  but  Alcamo's  the 
grace: 

Each  neutralizes  each   then !      Search 
your  fill ; 

You  get  no  whole  and  perfect  Poet  — 
still 

New  Ninas,  Alcamos,  till  time's  mid- 
night 

Shrouds  all  —  or  better  say,  the  shutting 
light 

Of  a  forgotten  yesterday.     Dissect 

Every  ideal  workman — (to  reject 

In  favour  of  your  fearful  ignorance 

The  thousand  phantasms  eager  to  ad- 
vance, 

And  point  you  but  to  those  within  your 
reach) — 

Were  you  the  first  who  brought  —  (in 
modern  speech) 

The  Multitude  to  be  materialized  ? 
p.  404 

Do  the  popes  coupled  there  help  Gre- 
gory 

Alone?    Hark  from  the  hermit  Peter's 

cry 
p.  405 

trail  o'er  the  ground  — 

Shall   I  say,    gourd  -  like  ?  —  not   the 
flower's  display 

Nor  the  roofs  prowess,  but  the  plenteous 
way 

O'  the  plant — produced  by  joy  and  sor- 
row, whence 

Unfeeling  and    yet    feeling,    strongest 

thence  ? 
p.  406 

Rather  than  doing  these,  in  days  gone 
by. 

But  all  is  changed  the  moment  you  des- 
cry 

Mankind    as    half    yourself,  —  then 

fancy's  trade  [&c.] 
p.  414 

And   round   those   three    the    people 
formed  a  ring, 

Of  visionary  judges  whose  award 

He    recognized   in   full  — faces    that 
barred 

Henceforth  return  to  the  old  careless 
life, 

In  whose  great  presence,  therefore,  his 
first  strife 

For   their   sake   must  not   be  ignobly 
fought, 

All  these  at  once  approved  of  him,  he 
thought, 

Suspended  their  own  vengeance,  chose 
await 


400 


Bordello. 


ed.  1840. 
p.  194 

Now,  whether  he  came  near  or  kept 
aloof, 


Those  forms  unalterable  first  to  last 
Proved  him  her  copy,  not  the  protoplast 

p.  196 

Will  dawns  above  us.  But  so  much  to 
win 

Ere  that !  A  lesser  round  of  steps  with- 
in 

The  last. 

p.  197 

Which  evil  is,  which  good,  if  I  allot 
Your  Hell,  the  Purgatory,  Heaven  ye 
wot, 

p.  201 
Say  there  's  a  thing  in  prospect,  must 


Betide  competitors  ?    An  obscure  place 


p.  202  this  badge  alone 

Makes  you  Romano's  Head  —  the  Lom- 
bard'1 s  Curb 

Turns  on  your  neck  which  would,  on 

mine,  disturb 
p.  204 

From  wandering  after  his  heritage 

Lost  once  and  lost  for  aye  —  what  could 
engage 

That  deprecating  glance  ? 
p.  212  a  spark 

I'  the  stone,  and  whirl  of  some  loose 
embossed  thong 

That  crashed  against  the  angle  aye  so 
long 


ed.  1863,  vol.  iii. 

p.  416 
Now  whether  he  came  near   or   kept 

aloof 

The  several  forms  he  longed  to  imitate, 
Not  there  the  kingship  lay,  he  sees  too 

late, 

Those  forms,  unalterable  first  as  last, 
Proved  him  her  copier,  not  the  proto- 
plast. 
p.  418 
Will  dawns  above  us !    All  then  is  to 

win 
Save  that !    How  much  for  me,  then  f 

Where  begin 
My  work  t 

p.  418 

Which  sinner  is,  which  saint,  if  I  allot 
Hell,  Purgatory,  Heaven,  a  blaze  or  blot 

p.  422 
Say  there  's  a  prize  in  prospect,  must 

disgrace 

Betide  competitors,  unless  they  style 
Themselves   Romano  t     Were   it  worth 

my  while 
To  try  my  own  luck !    But  an  obscure 

place 

p.  423  "  This  badge  alone 

Makes  you  Romano's  Head  —  becomes 

superb 
On  your  bare  neck,  which  would,   on 

mine,  disturb 
p.  425 

From  wandering  after  his  heritage 
Lost  once  and  lost  for  aye  —  and  why 

that  rage, 
That  deprecating  glance  ? 

p.  431  a  spark 

I'  the  stone,  and  whirl  of  some  loose 

embossed  throng 
That  crashed  against  the  angle  aye  so 

long. 


ed.  1840. 
p.  221 
That   buckler    's   lined    with    many   a 

Giant's  beard 
Ere  long,  Porphyrio,  be  the  lance  but 

reared, 
p.  222 
Lames  barefoot  Agathon. 


BOOK  VI  (collated  by  the  Rev.  T.  W.  Carson). 

ed.  1863,  vol.  iii. 

p.  438 
That  buckler 's  lined  with  many  a  giant's 

beard 
Ere  long,  0  champion,  be  the  lance  up- 

reared, 
p.  439 
Lames  barefoot  Agathon  :   this  felled, 

we  'II  try 
The  picturesque  achievements    by  and 

Next  life .' " 

Ay,  rally,  mock,  oh  People,  urge 
Tour  claims !  —  for  thus  he  ventured,  to 

the  verge 
p.  440 
—  Buds  blasted,  but  of  breath  more  like 

perfume 

Than  Naddo's  staring  nosegay's  carrion 
bloom: 


Oh,  people,  urge 
Tour  claims!  for  thus  he  ventured  to 

the  verge 
p.  223 
—  Buds    blasted,  but    of  breath  more 

like  perfume,? 

Than  Naddo's  staring  nosegay's  carrion 
bloom*. 


So,  the  head  aches.  —  /Spring  Song.         401 

ed.  1840.  ed.  1863,  vol.  iii. 

p.  225  p.  441 

Or  might  impede  that   Guelf    rule,  it      Or  might  impede  the  Guelf  rule,  must 

behoved  be  moved 

You,  for  the  Then's  sake,  hate  what  n  ow      Now,  for  the  Then's  sake,  —  hattre^  what 

you  loved,  you  loved, 

p.  240  p.  454 

Exciting  discontent,  had  surerf  quelled       Exciting  discontent,  or  smelier  quell 
The  Body  if  aspiring  it  rebelled.1  The  body  if,  aspiring,  it  rebel? 

p.  248-49  p.  461 

You  hear  its  one  tower  left,  a  belfry,      You  hear  its  one  tower  left,  a  belfry, 
toll—  toll  — 

The  earthquake  spared  it  last  year,  lay- 
ing flat 
The  modern  church  beneath,  —  no  harm 

in  that ! 
Cherups  the  contumacious  grasshopper,      Cherups  the  contumacious  grasshopper. 

1  In  p.  246,  as  occasionally  elsewhere,  Browning  treats  the  inflectional  *  as  no- 
thing in  his  rhymes : 

The  life-cord  prompt  enough  whose  last  fine  threads 
You  fritter  :  so,  presiding  his  board-head  .... 
p.  251  A  tree  that  covets  fruitage  and  yet  tastes 

Never  itself,  itself  —  had  he  embraced  .... 

They  are  not  changed  in  the  Works  of  18G3,  p.  459,  p.  4G3,  or  in  the  Works  of 
1868,  p.  211,  p.  215. 

So,  the  head  aches  and  the  limbs  are  faint !  The 
first  line  of  the  sixth  lyric  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

Soul's  Tragedy,  A.  This  drama  was  published  in  the 
eighth  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates,  which  was  issued 
in  April,  1846.  It  followed  Lurid  ;  and  after  it  came  the 
concluding  words  in  regard  to  the  series.  First  reprinted 
in  Poetical  Works,  1863. 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  at  Faenza,  an  Italian  city, 
situated  about  half  -  way  between  Bologna  and  Ravenna, 
which  at  present  has  a  population  of  about  forty  thousand. 
The  earthenware  called  faience  is  named  from  this  city, 
and  it  is  manufactured  there.  The  time  of  the  drama  is 
the  sixteenth  century,  but  the  story  of  the  book  is  not  his- 
torical. 

Rolfe  gives,  in  his  annotated  edition  of  three  of  the 
dramas,  an  introduction  and  full  notes.  Miss  Burt  puts 
Eulalia  among  the  shrewd  women,  in  her  Browning's  Wo- 
men. 

Speculative.     Asolando,  1889. 

Spring  Song.  In  the  New  Amphion,  a  small  book 
published  for  the  Edinburgh  University  Union  Fancy  Fair, 
1886,  was  a  short  poem  from  Browning's  pen,  reprinted  in 
The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  seven  :  — 


402  The  Statue  and  the  Bust. 


SPRING  SONG. 

Dance,  yellows  and  whites  and  reds  ! 

Lead  your  gay  orgy,  —  leaves,  stalks,  heads, 

Astir  with  the  wind  in  the  tulip-beds ! 

There 's  sunshine :  scarcely  a  wind  at  all 
Disturbs  starved  grass  and  daisies  small 
On  a  certain  mound  by  a  churchyard  wall. 

Daisies  and  grass  be  my  heart's  bedfellows 

On  the  mound  wind  spares  and  sunshine  mellows  — 

Dance  you,  reds  and  whites  and  yellows ! 

Statue  and  the  Bust,  The.  Men  and  Women,  1855 ; 
Romances,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

The  Piazza  della  Santa  Annunziata  is .  only  a  few  steps 
from  the  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  Florence.  The  church 
from  which  the  Piazza  is  named  was  huilt  by  the  Servite 
Monks  in  1250,  but  has  been  modernized.  The  square 
contains  an  equestrian  statue  of  Ferdinand  I.,  the  younger 
son  of  Cosimo  L,  who  was  a  cardinal,  and  then  a  grand 
duke.  Ferdinand  is  represented  with  his  face  directed  to- 
wards the  Riecardi  palace  at  the  corner  of  the  Via  de'  Servi. 
This  palace,  which  was  built  in  1565,  must  not  be  confounded 
with  the  Riccardi  palace  of  The  Ring  and  the  Book  (p. 
346).  The  latter  was  built  in  1430  by  Cosimo  dei  Medici, 
and  from  designs  by  Michelozzo  Michelozzi.  In  that  palace 
the  Medici  entertained  kings  and  great  people.  In  1659 
it  was  sold  by  Ferdinand  II.  to  Marchese  Riccardi ;  and 
it  has  since  been  known  as  the  Riccardi  Palace. 

Duke  Ferdinand  loved  the  wife  of  Riccardi,  according  to 
tradition.  The  result  is  described  in  the  poem.  The  Ric- 
cardi kept  his  young  wife  closely  a  prisoner  when  he  found 
that  she  conversed  with  the  grand  duke.  There  she  could 
see  and  be  seen  of  her  lover  only  when  she  gazed  from  the 
windows.  In  revenge,  Ferdinand  erected  his  statue,  that 
he  might  always  appear  to  watch  for  the  fair  one.  This 
tradition  is  expanded  by  Browning,  and  embellished  to 
bring  out  certain  dramatic  effects. 

Browning  confounds  the  two  Riccardi  palaces,  as  it  is  the 
Medicean  one  which  is  on  the  Via  Larga,  now  the  Via 
Cavour,  and  which  is  associated  with  the  crime  committed 
by  Cosimo  dei  Medici  and  his  son  Piero  in  destroying  the 


Stra/ord.  403 

liberties  of  Florence.  —  Petraja  is  a  villa  a  short  distance 
out  of  Florence.  —  Robbia  is  the  artist  by  whom  the  bust 
was  made  ;  but  neither  Luca  nor  Andrea  della  Robbia  was 
living  at  the  date  of  the  story.  —  John  of  Douay  or  Bologna 
is  the  artist  who  executed  the  statue  in  1608,  and  it  was  his 
last,  though  not  his  best  work. 

These  questions  were  once  sent  to  Browning :  "  1.  When, 
how,  and  where  did  it  happen  ?  Browning's  divine  vague- 
ness lets  one  gather  only  that  the  lady's  husband  was  a  Ric- 
cardi.  2.  Who  was  the  lady  ?  who  the  duke  ?  3.  The 
magnificent  house  wherein  Florence  lodges  her  preset  is 
known  to  all  Florentine  ball-goers  as  the  Palazzo  Riccardi. 
It  was  bought  by  the  Riccardi  from  the  Medici  in  1659. 
From  none  of  its  windows  did  the  lady  gaze  at  her  more 
than  royal  lover.  From  what  window,  then,  if  from  any  ? 
Are  the  statue  and  the  bust  still  in  their  original  positions  ?  " 

Browning  made  answer  under  date  of  January  8,  1887  : 
"  I  have  seldom  met  with  such  a  strange  inability  to  under- 
stand what  seems  the  plainest  matter  possible  :  '  ball-goers  ' 
are  probably  not  history-readers,  but  any  guide-book  would 
confirm  what  is  sufficiently  stated  in  the  poem.  I  will  ap- 
pend a  note  or  two,  however.  1.  '  This  story  the  townsmen 
tell ; '  '  when,  how,  and  where,'  constitutes  the  subject  of  the 
poem.  2.  The  lady  was  the  wife  of  Riccardi ;  and  the 
duke,  Ferdinand,  just  as  the  poem  says.  3.  As  it  was 
built  by,  and  inhabited  by,  the  Medici  till  sold,  long  after,  to 
the  Riccardi,  it  was  not  from  the  duke's  palace,  but  a  win- 
dow in  that  of  the  Riccardi,  that  the  lady  gazed  at  her  lover 
riding  by.  The  statue  is  still  in  its  place,  looking  at  the 
window  under  which  '  now  is  the  empty  shrine.'  'Can  any- 
thing be  clearer  ?  My  '  vagueness '  leaves  what  to  be 
'  gathered  '  when  all  these  things  are  put  down  in  black  and 
white  ?  Oh,  '  ball-goers  '  !  "  But  Browning  was  wrong, 
and  the  querist  was  right,  in  assuming  that  the  statue  could 
not  be  seen  from  any  window  of  the  palace  sold  to  the 
Riccardi  in  1659. 

Strafford.  The  idea  of  writing  a  drama  for  the  stage 
was  suggested  to  Browning  by  William  Macready,  one  of 
the  most  popular  and  successful  actors  of  his  day.  Mac- 
ready  read  Paracelsus  soon  after  its  publication,  and  was 
much  impressed  with  its  power  and  the  genius  it  manifested. 


404  Stra/ord. 

In  his  journal  he  described  it  as  "  a  work  of  great  daring, 
starred  with  poetry  of  thought,  feeling,  and  diction,  but 
occasionally  obscure  ;  the  writer  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  a 
leading  spirit  of  his  time."  In  February,  1836,  Macready 
made  this  entry  in  his  journal :  — 

"  Forster  and  Browning  called,  and  talked  over  the  plot 
of  a  tragedy  which  Browning  had  begun  to  think  of ;  the 
subject,  Narses.  He  said  that  I  had  bit  him  by  my  per- 
formance of  Othello,  and  I  told  him  I  hoped  I  should  make 
the  blood  come.  It  would  indeed  be  some  recompense  for 
the  miseries,  the  humiliations,  the  heart-sickening  disgusts, 
which  I  have  endured  in  my  profession,  if,  by  its  exercise, 
I  had  awakened  a  spirit  of  poetry  whose  influence  would 
elevate,  ennoble,  and  adorn  our  degraded  drama.  May  it 
be  ! " 

In  May  of  the  same  year,  when  a  tragedy  written  by 
Sergeant  Talfourd  was  played,  a  supper  followed,  when 
Wordsworth,  Landor,  Miss  Mitford,  Macready,  Talfourd, 
Browning,  and  others  sat  down  together.  When  the  guests 
were  leaving,  Macready  came  behind  Browning  on  the 
stairs,  and  laying  his  hand  on  his  arm  said  to  him,  "  Write 
a  play,  Browning,  and  keep  me  from  going  to  America." 
The  tone  of  earnestness  with  which  these  words  were 
uttered  was  such  as  to  impress  the  poet  with  their  sincerity, 
and  he  replied :  "  Shall  it  be  historical  and  English  ? 
What  do  you  say  to  a  drama  on  Strafford  ?  "  Browning  at 
once  took  up  the  subject  thus  suggested,  and  spent  several 
months  in  studying  it  in  its  historical  aspects.  His  intimate 
friend,  John  Forster,  had  just  published  in  his  British 
Statesmen  an  account  of  Strafford,  and  this  Browning  made 
the  basis  of  his  drama. 

In  August  Macready  recorded  in  his  journal  that  Forster 
had  mentioned  to  him  Browning's  choice  of  Strafford  as 
the  subject  for  his  drama,  and  the  actor  added  :  "  He  could 
not  have  hit  upon  one  that  I  could  have  more  readily  con- 
curred to."  In  November  Browning  brought  the  tragedy 
to  Macready  Complete,  except  in  the  fourth  act ;  and  he 
was  requested  to  finish  it.  In  March,  1837,  the  tragedy 
was  ready  for  the  stage,  and  Macready  records  going  to 
the  theatre  with  it,  and  adds  :  "  Read  to  Mr.  Osbaldiston 
the  play  of  Strafford  ;  he  caught  at  it  with  avidity,  agreed 


Stra/ord.  405 

to  produce  it  without  delay  on  his  part,  and  to  give  the 
author  £12  per  night  for  twenty-five  nights,  and  £10  per 
night  for  ten  nights  beyond.  He  also  promised  to  offer 
Mr.  Elton  an  engagement  to  strengthen  the  play." 

In  April  Macready  spent  an  evening  in  reading  the  play, 
and  in  its  careful  study.  The  next  day  he  recorded  in  his 
journal  the  results  of  his  study  of  the  tragedy :  — 

"  Thought  over  some  scenes  of  Strafford,  before  I  rose, 
and  went  out  very  soon  to  the  rehearsal  of  it.  There  is  no 
chance,  in  my  opinion,  for  the  play,  but  in  the  acting, 
which  by  possibility  might  carry  it  to  the  end  without  dis- 
approbation ;  but  that  the  curtain  can  fall  without  consider- 
able opposition,  I  cannot  venture  to  anticipate  under  the 
most  advantageous  circumstances.  In  all  the  historical 
plays  of  Shakespeare,  the  great  poet  has  only  introduced 
such  events  as  act  on  the  individuals  concerned,  and  of 
which  they  are  themselves  a  part ;  the  persons  are  all  in 
direct  relation  to  each  other,  and  the  facts  are  present  to 
the  audience.  But  in  Browning's  play,  we  have  a  long 
scene  of  passion  — r-  upon  what  ?  A  plan  destroyed,  by 
whom  or  for  what  we  know  not,  and  a  parliament  dis- 
solved, which  merely  seems  to  inconvenience  Strafford  in 
his  arrangements." 

The  tragedy  was  presented  for  the  first  time  at  Covent 
Garden  Theatre,  May  1,  1837.  The  following  account  of 
the  play  appeared  in  The  Examiner,  written  by  John 
Forster :  "  The  tragedy  was  produced  with  all  the  evi- 
dences of  a  decided  success ;  though  we  confess  that  we  do 
not  think  it  will  take  permanent  hold  of  the  stage.  It 
should  be  stated,  however,  that  it  was  most  infamously  got 
up  ;  that  even  Mr.  Macready  was  not  near  so  fine  as  he  is 
wont  to  be ;  and  that  for  the  rest  of  the  performers,  with 
the  exception  of  Miss  Faucit,  they  were  a  born  wonder  to 
look  at." 

In  her  edition  of  Strafford  Miss  Emily  H.  Hickey  men- 
tions this  interesting  fact  in-  connection  with  the  first  pro- 
duction of  the  play  on  the  stage :  "  When  the  play  was 
rehearsing,  Mr.  Browning  gave  Macready  a  lilt  which  he 
had  composed  for  the  children's  song  in  Act  V.  His  object 
was  just  to  give  the  children  a  thing  children  would  croon  ; 
but  the  two  little  professed  singers,  Master  and  Miss 


406  Stratford. 

Walker,  preferred  something  that  should  exhibit  their 
jx)wers  more  effectually,  and  a  regular  song  was  substituted, 
scarcely,  it  will  be  thought,  to  the  improvement  of  the 
play."  By  permission  of  Mr.  Browning  this  lilt  is  pub- 
lished in  Miss  Hickey's  preface.  It  is  also  printed  in  Poet- 
L&re,  1  :  236,  May,  1889. 

In  his  paper  on  "  The  Early  Writings  of  Robert  Brown- 
ing," published  in  The  Century  for  December,  1881,  Mr. 
Edmund  Gosse  gives  Browning's  view  of  the  stage  presen- 
tation of  the  tragedy.  "  It  is  time  now  to  deny  a  state- 
ment," says  Mr.  Gosse,  "that  has  been  repeated  ad  nau- 
seam, in  every  notice  that  professes  to  give  an  account  of 
Mr.  Browning's  career.  Whatever  is  said  or  not  said,  it  is 
always  remarked  that  his  plays  have  failed  on  the  stage.  In 
point  of  fact,  the  three  plays  which  he  has  brought  out  have 
all  succeeded,  and  have  owed  it  to  fortuitous  circumstances 
that  their  tenure  on  the  boards  has  been  comparatively 
short.  Straffard  was  produced  when  the  finances  of  Covent 
Garden  Theatre  were  at  their  lowest  ebb,  and  nothing 
was  done  to  give  dignity  or  splendor  to  the  performance. 
'Not  a  rag  for  the  new  tragedy,'  said  Mr.  Osbaldiston. 
The  King  was  taken  by  Mr.  Dale,  who  was  stone-deaf, 
and  who  acted  so  badly  that,  as  one  of  the  critics  said, 
it  was  a  pity  that  the  pit  did  not  rise  as  one  man  and  push 
him  off  the  stage.  All  sorts  of  alterations  were  made  in 
the  text ;  where  the  poet  spoke  of  '  grave  gray  eyes,'  the 
manager  corrected  it  in  rehearsal  to  '  black  eyes.'  But  at 
last  Macready  appeared,  in  the  second  scene  of  the  second 
act,  in  more  than  his  wonted  majesty,  crossing  and  recross- 
ing  the  stage  like  one  of  Vandyke's  courtly  personages 
come  to  life  again  ;  and  Miss  Helen  Faucit  threw  such 
tenderness  and  passion  into  the  part  of  Lady  Carlisle  as 
surpassed  all  that  she  had  previously  displayed  of  histrionic 
powers.  Under  these  circumstances,  and  in  spite  of  the 
dull  acting  of  Vanderhoff,  who  played  Pym  without  any 
care  or  interest,  the  play  was  well  received  on  the  first 
night,  and  on  the  second  night  was  applauded  with  enthu- 
siasm by  a  crowded  house.  There  was  every  expectation 
that  the  tragedy  would  have  no  less  favorable  a  run  than 
Ion  [Sergeant  Talfourd's  play,  which  had  been  brought  out 
at  the  same  theatre  the  year  before,  and  with  great  success] 


Strafford.  407 

had  enjoyed,  but  after  five  nights  Vanderhoff  suddenly 
withdrew,  and  though  Elton  volunteered  to  take  his  place, 
the  financial  condition  of  the  theatre,  in  spite  of  the  un- 
diminished  popularity  of  the  piece,  put  an  end  to  its  repre- 
sentation. 

"  Mr.  Browning,  the  elder,  had  paid  for  the  cost  of  Para- 
celsus ;  Strafford  was  taken  by  Longmans,  and  brought 
out,  at  their  expense,  as  a  little  volume,  —  not,  like  most  of 
the  tragedies  of  the  day,  in  dark-gray  paper  covers,  with  a 
white  label.  However,  at  that  time  the  public  absolutely 
declined  to  buy  Mr.  Browning's  books,  and  Strafford,  al- 
though more  respectfully  received  by  the  press,  was  as 
great  a  financial  failure  as  Paracelsus.  It  was  part  of  Mr. 
Browning's  essentially  masculine  order  of  mind  to  be  in 
no  wise  disheartened  or  detached  from  his  purpose  by  this 
indifference  of  the  public.  He  was  silent  for  three  years, 
but  all  the  time  busy  with  copious  production." 

When  published,  Strafford  was  dedicated  to  Macready, 
and  it  had  a  preface,  not  afterwards  reprinted  with  the 
tragedy.  It  is  here  reproduced  word  for  word  and  letter 
for  letter :  — 

"  I  had  for  some  time  been  engaged  in  a  Poem  of  a  very 
different  nature,  when  induced  to  make  the  present  at- 
tempt ;  and  am  not  without  apprehension  that  my  eager- 
ness to  freshen  a  jaded  mind  by  diverting  it  to  the  healthy 
natures  of  a  grand  epoch,  may  have  operated  unfavorably 
on  the  represented  play,  which  is  one  of  Action  in  Character, 
rather  than  Character  in  Action.  To  remedy  this,  in  some 
degree,  considerable  curtailment  will  be  necessary,  and,  in 
a  few  instances,  the  supplying  details  not  required,  I  sup- 
pose, by  the  mere  reader.  While  a  trifling  success  would 
much  gratify,  failure  will  not  wholly  discourage  me  from 
another  effort :  experience  is  to  come ;  and  earnest  endeavor 
may  yet  remove  many  disadvantages. 

"  The  portraits  are,  I  think,  faithful ;  and  I  am  exceed- 
ingly fortunate  in  being  able,  in  proof  of  this,  to  refer  to  the 
subtle  and  eloquent  exposition  of  the  characters  of  Eliot  and 
Strafford,  in  the  Lives  of  Eminent  British  Statesmen,  now 
in  the  course  of  publication  in  Lardner's  Cyclopedia,  by  a 
writer  [John  Forster]  whom  I  am  proud  to  call  my  friend  ; 
and  whose  biographies  of  Hampden,  Pym  and  Vane,  will,  I 


408  Stratford. 

am  sure,  fitly  illustrate  the  present  year  —  the  Second  Cen- 
tenary of  the  Trial  concerning  Ship-Money.  My  Carlisle, 
however,  is  purely  imaginary :  I  at  first  sketched  her  sin- 
gular likeness  roughly  in,  as  suggested  by  Matthews  and  the 
memoir-writers  —  but  it  was  too  artificial,  and  the  substi- 
tuted outline  is  exclusively  from  Voiture  and  Waller. 

"  The  Italian  boat-song  in  the  last  scene  is  from  Redi's 
'  Bacco,'  long  since  naturalized  in  the  joyous  and  delicate 
version  of  Leigh  Hunt." 

Browning  followed  the  conception  of  Strafford  given  by 
Forster  in  the  biography  of  that  statesman,  published  un- 
der the  title  of  Eminent  British  Statesmen  in  Lardner's 
Cabinet  Cyclopaedia.  New  facts  have  since  come  to  light ; 
and  Strafford's  life  has  been  presented  by  later  historians  in 
a  manner  nearer  to  the  truth  of  historic  detail.  In  the  in- 
troduction to  Miss  Emily  H.  Hickey's  edition  of  Strafford, 
Professor  Samuel  R.  Gardiner  carefully  discusses  the  his- 
toric truthfulness  of  the  tragedy.  His  statements  are  of  so 
much  value  that  they  may  be  given  at  some  length.  "  We 
may  be  sure,"  says  Professor  Gardiner,  "  that  it  was  not  by 
accident  that  Mr.  Browning,  in  writing  this  play,  decisively 
abandoned  all  attempt  to  be  historically  accurate.  Only 
here  arid  there  does  anything  in  the  course  of  the  drama 
take  place  as  it  could  have  taken  place  at  the  actual  Court 
of  Charles  I.  Not  merely  are  there  frequent  minor  inaccu- 
racies, but  the  very  roots  of  the  situation  are  untrue  to  fact. 
The  real  Strafford  was  far  from  opposing  the  war  with  the 
Scots  at  the  time  when  the  Short  Parliament  was  sum- 
moned. Pym  never  had  such  a  friendship  for  Strafford  as 
he  is  represented  as  having,  and,  to  any  one  who  knows 
anything  of  the  habits  of  Charles,  the  idea  of  Pym  or  his 
friends  entering  into  colloquies  with  Strafford,  and  even 
bursting  in  unannounced  into  Charles's  presence,  is,  from 
the  historical  point  of  view,  simply  ludicrous. 

"  So  completely  does  the  drama  proceed  irrespectively  of 
historical  truth,  that  the  critic  may  dispense  with  the  thank- 
less task  of  pointing  out  discrepancies.  He  will  be  better 
employed  in  asking  what  ends  those  discrepancies  were  in- 
tended to  serve,  and  whether  the  neglect  of  truth  of  fact  has 
resulted  in  the  highest  truth  of  character. 

"  There  is   not   much   difficulty  in   answering  the  first 


Strafford.  409 

question.  From  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  play  the 
personal  relations  between  the  actors  are  exaggerated  at 
the  expense  of  the  political.  To  make  that  dramatic  which 
would  otherwise  not  be  dramatic,  Mr.  Browning  has  been 
utterly  regardless  even  of  historical  probability.  Whatever 
personal  feeling  may  have  entwined  itself  in  the  political 
attachment  between  Strafford  and  Charles,  is  strengthened 
until  it  becomes  the  very  basis  of  Strafford's  life,  and  the 
key-note  of  his  character.  Having  thus  brought  out  the 
moral  qualities  of  his  hero,  it  remained  for  Mr.  Browning 
to  impress  his  readers  with  Strafford's  intellectual  great- 
ness. The  historian  who  tries  to  do  that  will  have  much 
to  say  on  his  constitutional  views  and  his  Irish  government, 
but  a  dramatist  who  tried  to  follow  in  such  a  path  would 
only  make  himself  ridiculous.  Mr.  Browning  understood 
the  force  of  the  remark  of  the  Greek  philosopher,  that 
Homer  makes  us  realize  Helen's  beauty  most  by  speaking 
of  the  impression  which  it  made  upon  the  old  men  who 
looked  on  her.  Mr.  Browning  brings  out  Strafford's  great- 
ness by  showing  the  impression  which  he  made  on  Pym  and 
Lady  Carlisle. 

"  Mr.  Browning  took  a  hint  from  the  old  story,  which  is 
without  any  satisfactory  evidence,  and  which  is  indirectly 
contradicted  by  all  the  evidence  which  has  reached  us,  that 
Pym  and  Strafford  were  once  intimate  friends.  In  carry- 
ing on  Pym's  feeling  of  admiration  for  Charles's  minister 
to  the  days  of  the  Short  and  even  of  the  Long  Parliament, 
the  dramatist  has  filled  his-  play  with  scenes  which  are  more 
hopelessly  impossible  than  anything  else  in  it ;  but  they  all 
conduce  to  his  main  object,  the  creation  of  the  impression 
about  Strafford  which  he  wished  to  convey.  He  pursues  the 
same  object  in  dealing  with  Lady  Carlisle.  What  he  needs 
is  her  admiration  of  Strafford,  not  Strafford's  admiration  of 
her.  He  takes  care  to  show  that  she  was  not,  as  vulgar 
rumor  supposed,  Strafford's  mistress.  The  impression  of 
Strafford's  greatness  is  brought  more  completely  home  to 
the  spectator  or  the  reader,  because  of  the  effect  which  it 
produces  upon  one  who  has  given  her  heart  without  return. 

"  Having  thus  noted  the  means  employed  in  creating  the 
impression  desired,  we  have  still  to  ask  how  far  the  im- 
pression is  a  correct  one.  On  this  point  each  reader  must 


410  Stratford. 

judge  for  himself.  For  myself,  I  can  only  say  that,  every 
time  that  I  read  the  play,  I  feel  more  certain  that  Mr. 
Browning  has  seized  the  real  Strafford,  the  man  of  critical 
brain,  of  rapid  decision,  and  tender  heart,  who  strove  for 
the  good  of  his  nation  without  sympathy  for  the  generation 
in  which  he  lived.  Charles,  too,  with  his  faults  perhaps 
exaggerated,  is  nevertheless  the  real  Charles.  Of  Lady 
Carlisle  we  know  too  little  to  speak  with  anything  like  cer- 
tainty, but,  in  spite  of  Mr.  Browning's  statement  that  his 
character  of  her  is  purely  imaginary,  there  is  a  wonderful 
parallelism  between  the  Lady  Carlisle  of  the  play  and  the 
less  noble  Lady  Carlisle  which  history  conjectures  rather 
than  describes.  There  is  the  same  tendency  to  fix  the 
heart  upon  the  truly  great  man,  and  to  labor  for  him  with- 
out the  requital  of  human  affection,  though  in  the  play  no 
part  is  played  by  that  vanity  which  seems  to  have  been  the 
main  motive  with  the  real  personage. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  Pym  is  the  most  unsatisfactory, 
from  an  historical  point  of  view,  of  the  leading  personages. 
It  was  perhaps  necessary  for  dramatic  purposes  that  he 
should  appear  to  be  larger-hearted  than  he  was,  but  it  im- 
parts an  unreality  to  his  character.  It  must  be  remem- 
bered, however,  that  the  aim  of  the  dramatist  was  to  place 
Strafford  before  the  eyes  of  men,  not  to  produce  an  exact 
representation  of  the  statesmen  of  the  Long  Parliament." 

In  a  communication  published  in  The  Pall  Mall  Ga- 
zette during  April,  1890,  Mr.  F.  J.  Furnivall  says  that 
the  biography  of  Strafford,  which  has  borne  the  name  of 
John  Forster  as  the  author,  was  in  reality  written  by 
Browning ;  and  that  this  accounts  for  its  close  resemblance 
to  the  tragedy  of  Strafford.  He  says  :  — 

"  This  volume  was  published  in  1836.  John  Forster 
wrote  the  Life  of  Eliot,  the  first  in  the  volume,  and  began 
that  of  Strafford.  He  then  fell  ill ;  and  as  he  was  anxious 
to  produce  the  book  in  the  time  agreed  on,  Browning  offered 
to  finish  Strafford  for  him  on  his  handing  over  all  the 
material  he  had  accumulated  for  it.  Forster  was  greatly 
relieved  by  Browning's  kindness.  The  poet  set  to  work, 
completed  Strafford's  life  on  his  own  lines,  in  accordance 
with  his  own  conception  of  Strafford's  character,  but  gen- 
erously said  nothing  about  it  until  after  Forster's  death. 


Straff ord.  411 

Then  he  told  a  few  of  his  friends  —  me  among  them  —  of 
how  he  had  helped  Forster.  On  my  telling  Professor 
Gardiner  this,  I  found  that  he  knew  it,  and  had  been  long 
convinced  that  the  conception  of  Strafford  in  this  Lardner 
Life  was  not  John  Forster's,  but  was  Robert  Browning's. 
The  other  day  Professor  Gardiner  urged  me  to  make  the 
fact  of  Browning's  authorship  public  ;  and  I  do  so  •  now, 
though  I  have  frequently  mentioned  it  to  friends  in  private  ; 
and  at  the  Browning  Society,  when  a  member  has  said  '  It 
is  curious  how  closely  Browning  has  followed  his  authority, 
Forster's  Life  of  Strafford,'  I  have  answered  '  Yes,  because 
he  wrote  it  himself.'  We  must  understand  why,  when 
Macready  asked  Browning,  on  May  26,  1836,  to  write  him 
a  play,  the  poet  suggested  Strafford  as  its  subject ;  and  why, 
the  Life  being  finished  in  1836,  the  play  was  printed  and 
played  in  1837.  The  internal  evidence  will  satisfy  any  in- 
telligent reader  that  almost  all  the  prose  Life  is  the  poet's." 

Mr.  Furnivall  is  of  the  opinion  that  Browning  wrote  the 
whole  of  the  Life  of  Strafford  after  the  first  seven  para- 
graphs. It  is  a  strongly  written  biography,  keen  in  analysis, 
clear  in  its  outlining  of  leading  events,  and  masterful  in  its 
thorough  understanding  of  Strafford's  life.  It  will  be 
found  worthy  of  attention  as  an  indication  of  what  Brown- 
ing could  do  in  the  way  of  writing  clear  and  vigorous  prose. 
It  is  not  less  interesting  as  a  study  of  a  great  historic  char- 
acter by  this  master  of  psychological  analysis. 

Under  the  title  of  The  Statesmen  of  the  Commonwealth 
of  England,  Forster's  series  of  biographies,  edited  by  J.  O. 
Choules,  is  published  by  Harpers.  In  the  original  edition 
the  Life  of  Strafford  was  the  twenty-eighth  volume  of 
Lardner's  Cabinet  Cyclopcedia,  and  the  second  of  the  Lives 
of  Eminent  British  Statesmen. 

This  volume  has  been  republished  by  the  Browning 
Society  of  London,  through  Kegan  Paul,  Trench  &  Co., 
London,  and  Estes  &  Lauriat,  Boston,  1891.  It  is  edited 
with  an  introduction  by  J.  B.  Firth,  and  a  preface  by  Dr.  F. 
J.  Furnivall.  It  bears  the  title  of  Robert  Browning's  Prose 
Life  of  Strafford. 

Poet-Lore,  vol.  i.  pp.  236,  282,  332,  372,  426,  511,  562, 
gives  a  full  list  of  the  historical  allusions  in  Strafford, 
and  proves  how  implicitly  the  poet  relied  on  the  biography 


412  Stra/ord. 

bearing  the  name  of  John  Forster  as  the  author  for  his  pre- 
sentation of  the  great  statesmen  he  interpreted  in  his  poem. 
Passages  are  quoted  from  Forster's  biography,  and  imme- 
diately after  them  are  printed  the  parts  of  the  poem  based 
on  them.  The  fact  that  Browning  wrote  the  biography 
makes  these  resemblances  doubly  interesting. 

Mr.  H.  D.  Traill,  in  his  Lord  Strafford,  published  in  the 
series  of  English  Men  of  Action,  has  written  what  may  be 
regarded  as  a  defense  of  that  great  political  leader.  His 
book  shows  strong  Tory  sympathies,  and  it  cannot  be  wholly 
trusted  as  an  historic  interpretation  of  Straff ord's  life ;  but 
it  makes  a  strong  effort  to  give  consistency  and  an  honest 
purpose  to  his  career.  In  Green's  History  of  the  English 
People,  book  vii.  chap,  vii.,  is  given  a  view  of  Straff  ord's 
life  less  favorable,  but  more  accurate,  than  that  presented 
by  Mr.  Traill.  In  the  same  book  of  this  history  the  work 
of  the  Parliamentary  leaders  is  described  in  a  manner  as 
interesting  as  it  is  reliable.  Also,  Gardiner's  History  of 
England,  vol.  vi.  ;  Macaulay's  History,  vol.  i.  chap.  i.  ; 
Hume's  History,  vol.  v.,  treat  of  Strafford,  Pym,  and  the 
other  characters  of  the  play.  There  is  a  good  biography  of 
Hampden  by  Lord  Nugent,  of  Pym  in  Mr.  Gold  win 
Smith's  Three  English  Statesmen,  of  Sir  Henry  Vane  the 
younger  by  Mr.  James  K.  Hosmer,  and  of  Eliot  by  John 
Forster. 

Strafford  has  been  published  in  London,  by  George  Bell 
&  Sons,  in  a  small  volume  edited,  with  notes  and  preface, 
by  Miss  Emily  H.  Hickey,  and  an  introduction  by  Professor 
Samuel  R.  Gardiner.  The  text  was  revised  by  Mr.  Brown- 
ing. The  notes  will  be  found  helpful  in  explaining  the  his- 
torical allusions.  From  the  preface  this  item  is  taken  : 
"  The  historical  Lady  Carlisle  was  the  daughter  of  the 
ninth  Earl  of  Northumberland.  In  1639  she  had  been  for 
three  years  a  widow.  Her  husband  was  James,  Lord  Hay, 
created  successively  Viscount  Doncaster  and  Earl  of  Car- 
lisle." For  a  sketch  of  this  strange  woman,  see  Lodge's 
Portraits  of  Illustrious  Personages,  vol.  v.,  in  Bohn's 
Library.  Sir  Toby  Matthews'  '•  character  of  the  most  excel- 
lent Lady,  Lucy,  Countess  of  Carlisle,"  prefixed  to  a  collec- 
tion of  letters  which  Donne  edited  in  1660,  is  of  sufficient 
interest  to  repay  a  perusal.  Lodge  has  an  engraving  of 


Summum  Bonum.  413 

her  portrait  by  Vandyke.  The  London  Browning  Society's 
Bibliography,  p.  117,  reprints  the  notices  of  the  first  per- 
formance of  Straff  or  d,  especially  that  by  John  Forster  in 
The  Examiner. 

See  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  nine, 
2 : 147,  for  John  Todhunter's  paper  on  "  Strafford  at  the 
Strand  Theatre,"  December  21,  1886  ;  2  :  175*,  notes  on 
this  performance ;  also  2  :  182* ;  Edinburgh  Review, 
65  :  132.  Also  W.  G.  Kingsland's  Robert  Browning  : 
Chief  Poet  of  the  Age. 

Summum  Bonum.     Asolando,  1889. 

According  to  Krauth's  Vocabulary  of  the  Philosophical 
Sciences,  this  phrase,  which  means  the  chief  or  supreme 
good,  was  employed  by  ancient  ethical  philosophers  to  de- 
note that  in  the  prosecution  and  attainment  of  which  the 
progress,  perfection  and  happiness  of  human  beings  consist. 
Xenophanes  was  perhaps  the  first  to  use  the  term,  and  he  con- 
sidered the  summum  bonum  to  be  a  contented  acquiescence 
in  the  decrees  of  the  Deity.  The  ancient  thinkers  thought 
that  happiness,  or  what  is  good,  is  the  object  to  be  sought  for 
by  man  ;  and  out  of  this  ethical  principle  grew  the  belief 
that  there  is  some  chief  good  which  is  supreme  as  a  means 
of  happiness.  Especially  the  Stoics  made  this  a  leading 
principle  ;  and  they  discussed  it  with  a  high  moral  purpose. 
Cicero  wrote  a  book  in  which  he  fully  discussed  this  subject 
in  all  its  phases ;  it  is  his  De  Finibus,  A  Treatise  on  the 
Chief  Good  and  Evil.  The  fifth  of  his  Tusculan  Dispu- 
tations treats  of  virtue  as  sufficient  for  happiness.  In  this 
book  he  says :  "  The  conclusion  of  the  Stoics  is  indeed  ob- 
vious. Regarding  it  as  the  supreme  good  to  live  agreeably 
to  nature  and  in  accordance  with  it,  and  considering  the 
wise  man  as  not  only  bound  in  duty,  but  also  able  to  live 
thus,  they  necessarily  infer  that  the  life  of  him  who  has 
the  supreme  good  within  his  power  must  be  happy.  There- 
fore the  wise  man's  life  is  always  happy." 

In  this  book  he  enumerates  the  several  opinions  enter- 
tained among  philosophers  as  to  the  nature  of  the  supreme 
good.  He  says  :  "  The  following,  I  think,  are  all  the  opin- 
ions held  and  defended  concerning  the  supreme  good  and 
the  corresponding  extreme  of  evil.  In  the  first  place, 
there  are  four  simple  opinions,  —  that  there  is  no  good  but 


414  The  Sun.  —  A  Tale. 

the  right,  as  the  Stoics  say  ;  that  there  is  no  good  but  plea- 
sure, according  to  Epicurus ;  that  there  is  no  good  except 
freedom  from  pain,  as  is  the  opinion  of  Hieronymus ;  that 
there  is  no  good  except  the  enjoyment  of  the  chief,  or  all, 
or  the  greatest  goods  of  nature,  as  Carneades  maintained 
against  the  Stoics.  These  are  simple.  The  others  mingle 
different  elements  in  the  good.  Thus  the  Peripatetics, 
from  whom  those  of  the  Old  Academy  differ  very  little, 
recognize  three  classes  of  goods,  —  the  greatest,  those  of 
mind  ;  the  second,  those  of  the  body  ;  in  the  third  root, 
external  goods.  Dinomachus  and  Calliphon  coupled  plea- 
sure with  the  right,  and  Diodorus,  the  Peripatetic,  annexed 
painlessness  to  the  right,  as  constituting  the  good." 

Perhaps  it  would  be  truer  to  say  that  Epicurus  found  the 
summum  bonum  in  peace  of  mind ;  and  now  Browning 
finds  it  in  love.  Augustine  wrote  a  treatise  De  Summo 
Bono.  In  his  Light  of  Nature  Tucker  has  a  chapter  on 
"  ultimate  good,"  which  he  says  is  the  right  translation  of 
summum,  bonum. 

Sun,  The.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

The  third  paragraph  describes  the  period  of  fire-worship 
in  Persia,  which  preceded  and  was  absorbed  into  the 
religion  of  Zoroaster.  In  the  Shah  Nameh  Firdusi  de- 
scribes how  Husheng,  the  second  king  of  the  Peshdadian 
dynasty,  discovered  the  worship  of  fire,  and!  established  that 
sacred  flame  which  was  called  the  "  Light  of  Divinity." 

"Passing,  one  day,  towards  the  mountain's  side, 
Attended  by  his  train,  surprised  he  saw 
Something  in  aspect  terrible,  —  its  eyes 
Fountains  of  blood  ;  its  dreadful  mouth  sent  forth 
Volumes  of  smoke  that  darkened  all  the  air. 
Fixing  his  gaze  upon  that  hideous  form, 
He  seized  a  stone,  and  with  prodigious  force 
Hurling  it,  chanced  to  strike  a  jutting  rock, 
Whence  sparks  arose,  and  presently  a  fire 
O'erspread  the  plain,  in  which  the  monster  perished. 
Thus  Husheng  found  the  element  which  shed 
Light  through  the  world.     The  monarch  prostrate  bowed, 
Praising  the  great  Creator  for  the  good 
Bestowed  on  man,  and,  pious,  then  he  said, 
This  is  the  Light  from  Heaven,  sent  down  from  God ; 
If  ye  be  wise,  adore  and  worship  it !  " 

Tale,  A.     In  the  second  of  the  Selections  made  from  his 


Through  the  Metidja  to  Abd-d-Kadr.        415 

poems  by  Browning  himself,  the  epilogue  to  the  Two  Poets 
of  Croisic  bore  this  title. 

Taurello  Salinguerra.  The  reputed  father  of  Sordello 
in  the  poem  of  that  name.  See  under  Sordello. 

Theocrite.  The  boy  in  The  Boy  and  the  Angel,  who 
becomes  the  Pope,  with  the  help  of  the  angel  Gabriel,  but 
who  finds  that  he  has  not  served  God  in  his  true  place,  and 
who  takes  up  again  his  artisan  tasks. 

"  The  poets  pour  us  wine  —  "  The  epilogue  to  Pac- 
chiarotto  begins  with  these  words,  quoted  from  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing's Wine  of  Cyprus.  A  defense  of  the  poets,  and  an 
interpretation  of  their  methods  of  work. 

There 's  a  woman  like  a  dewdrop.  First  words  of 
the  song  in  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon. 

The  year's  at  the  spring.  The  song  of  Pippa  in 
Pippa  Passes,  which  she  sings  as  she  goes  by  the  house  of 
Ottima,  vol.  i.  p.  337,  Riverside  edition  of  Browning's  Works. 
This  song  has  been  set  to  music  by  Cdcile  Hartog ;  London, 
Boosey  &  Co. 

Thorold,  Earl  Tresham.  The  older  brother  of  Mildred 
Tresham,  in  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon,  who  stabs  her  lover, 
Earl  Mertoun,  when  he  thinks  that  Mertoun  has  seduced  his 
sister. 

Through  the  Metidja  to  Abd-el-Kadr,  1842.  Dra- 
matic Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and  Pomegranates, 
1842.  Poems,  1849 ;  Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics, 
1868. 

Abd-el-Kader  ("  servant  of  God ")  was  born  near  Mas- 
cara, Algeria,  in  1807.  He  became  known  among  the 
Arabs  for  piety  and  wisdom,  and  in  1831  was  chosen  emir 
of  Mascara.  He  led  the  Arabs  against  the  French  invaders 
of  the  country,  who  were  driven  back,  and  peace  was  con- 
cluded in  1834.  In  1839  the  French  renewed  the  war, 
which  continued  in  a  desultory  manner  for  some  years  ;  but 
in  1841  a  large  force  invaded  the  country.  Abd-el-Kader 
showed  skill,  daring,  and  power  of  leadership,  and  united  all 
the  Arab  tribes ;  but  he  was  at  last  conquered,  confined  in 
a  French  prison  for  several  years,  and  permitted  his  free- 
dom by  Louis  Napoleon,  in  1852,  on  condition  that  he  did 
not  return  to  Algeria.  He  then  lived  in  Damascus  and 
Constantinople,  and  died  in  1883.  See  his  biography,  by 


416  Thus  the  Mayne  glideth. 

Churchill,  London,  1867.  The  interest  which  the  exploits 
of  Abd-el-Kader  were  creating  in  Europe  in  1842  led  to 
the  writing  of  this  poem,  which  represents  one  of  his  Arab 
followers  riding  through  the  desert  to  join  his  leader.  The 
Horses  of  the  Sahara  and  the  Manners  of  the  Desert,  by 
E.  Daumas  [Melchior  Joseph  Eugene],  contains  a  series  of 
commentaries  on  the  horse  and  desert  life  by  Emir  Abd- 
el-Kader.  Translated  from  the  French  by  James  Hutton, 
London,  1863.  Abd-el-Kadr  in  latest  edition. 

Thus  the  Mayne  glideth.  The  fourth  song  in  Para- 
celsus, sung  by  Festus ;  vol.  i.  p.  111. 

Tiburzio.  The  commander  of  the  Pisan  army,  in  Luria, 
who  reveals  to  Luria  the  treachery  of  the  Florentine  Signo- 
ria,  and  whose  offer  of  service  under  Pisa  is  rejected. 

Time's  Revenges.  First  published  in  Dramatic  Ro- 
mances and  Lyrics,  seventh  number  of  Bells  and  Pome- 
granates, 1845.  Romances,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances, 
1868.  See  Mrs.  Orr  and  Symons  for  brief  interpretations. 

Toccata  of  Galuppi's,  A.  An  American  author,  visit- 
ing Browning  and  his  wife  at  Casa  Guidi  in  1847,  wrote  of 
their  occupations  :  "  Mrs.  Browning,"  he  said,  "  was  still 
too  much  of  an  invalid  to  walk,  but  she  sat  under  the  great 
trees  upon  the  lawn-like  hillsides  near  the  convent,  or  in  the 
seats  of  the  dusky  convent  chapel,  while  Robert  Browning 
at  the  organ  chased  a  fugue,  or  dreamed  out  upon  the  twi- 
light keys  a  faint  throbbing  toccata  of  Galuppi."  Under  such 
circumstances  the  present  poem  was  conceived  and  written. 
It  was  published  in  1855,  in  the  first  volume  of  Men  and 
Women.  In  the  Poetical  Works  of  1863  it  was  put  among 
the  Lyrics,  which  in  1868  became  Dramatic  Lyrics. 

Baldassare  Galuppi  was  born  on  the  island  of  Burano, 
near  Venice,  October  15,  1706,  and  for  this  reason  was 
called  II  Buranello.  His  father  was  a  barber,  but  fond  of 
music,  playing  the  violin  at  the  theatre,  and  capable  of  be- 
ginning the  instruction  of  his  son.  At  sixteen  Galuppi 
went  to  Venice  and  earned  his  bread  by  organ-playing,  but 
through  the  help  of  a  musical  friend  he  entered  the  music 
school  called  Conservatorio  degl'  Incurabili.  Here  he  had 
the  instruction  of  Lotti,  one  of  the  great  musicians  of  the 
day.  He  wrote  an  opera  at  sixteen,  Gli  miei  Rivali,  which 
was  so  bad  that  it  was  hissed  off  the  stage.  In  1729  he 


A  Toccata  of  Galuppi's.  417 

produced  his  Dorinda,  the  libretto  of  which  was  written  by 
Marcello,  who  had  started  him  on  his  musical  career ;  and 
this  piece  was  a  great  success.  It  established  his  fame,  and 
made  every  succeeding  work  of  his  a  success  wherever  it 
was  presented  in  Italy.  He  became  the  maestro  di  capella 
of  St.  Mark's  in  April,  1762 ;  and  at  the  same  time  became 
director  of  the  Incurabili.  In  1766  he  went  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, at  the  invitation  of  the  Empress  Catherine  II.,  where 
he  did  much  for  the  improvement  of  music,  and  in  produ- 
cing a  taste  for  this  art.  He  brought  out  two  operas,  greatly 
improving  the  orchestra  for  this  purpose.  One  of  these  was 
his  Didone  abbandonata,  which  met  with  remarkable  suc- 
cess. He  returned  to  Venice  in  1768,  and  continued  his 
work  at  the  Incurabili.  He  produced  no  less  than  fifty-four 
operas,  five  of  which  he  composed  in  one  year.  These  were 
mostly  comic,  and  he  is  regarded  as  the  father  of  Italian 
comic  opera.  His  works  have  disappeared  from  the  stage 
since  Rossini,  though  all  of  them  are  contained  in  various 
libraries.  His  church  music  is  still  sometimes  performed  in 
Venice.  A  sonata  of  his  is  printed  in  Pauer's  Alte  Clavier- 
musik.  Galuppi  died  at  Venice,  January  3, 1785.  He  left 
fifty  thousand  lire  to  the  poor  of  the  city. 

Galuppi  was  in  England  from  1741  to  1744,  and  wrote 
several  operas  in  London,  which  he  put  on  the  stage  there. 
He  was  received  with  much  favor,  and  dramatic  music  was 
much  influenced  by  his  style.  Dr.  Burney,  the  English  his- 
torian of  music,  was  in  Venice  in  1770,  and  found  Galuppi 
respected  and  prosperous.  He  described  the  "  novelty, 
spirit,  and  delicacy "  of  Galuppi's  music,  and  found  that 
"  fire  and  imagination  "  were  his  chief  characteristics. 

"  Galuppi,  who  was  an  immensely  prolific  composer," 
says  Vernon  Lee  in  her  Studies  in  the  Eighteenth  Century 
in  Italy,  "  abounded  in  melody,  tender,  pathetic,  and  bril- 
liant, which  in  its  extreme  simplicity  and  slightness  occa- 
sionally rose  to  the  highest  beauty.  He  was  not  a  very 
learned  composer,  used  instruments  very  sparingly,  but 
where,  for  instance,  he  introduced  wind  instruments,  it  was 
with  a  delicate  and  delightful  effect.  The  purely  musical 
qualities  satisfied  him,  and  he  defined  the  qualities  of  his 
art  to  Burney  in  very  moderate  terms,  clearness,  beauty, 
and  good  modulation,  qualities  which  he  himself  possessed 


418  A  Toccata  of  Galuppi^s. 

to  a  high  degree,  without  troubling  himself  much  about  any 
others.  .  .  .  Galuppi  was  a  model  of  the  respectable,  modest 
artist,  living  quietly  on  a  moderate  fortune,  busy  with  his 
art  and  the  education  of  his  numerous  children  ;  beloved  and 
revered  by  his  fellow-artists,  and,  when  some  fifteen  •  years 
later  he  died,  honored  by  them  with  a  splendid  funeral,  at 
which  all  Venetian  musicians  performed ;  the  great  Pac- 
chiarotti  writing  to  Burney  that  he  had  '  sung  with  much 
devotion  to  obtain  a  rest  for  Buranello's  soul.' " 

In  his  History  of  Music,  Hitter  says  that  "  the  main  fea- 
tures of  Galuppi's  operas  are  melodic  elegance,  and  lively  and 
spirited  comic  forms  ;  but  they  are  rather  thin  and  weak  in 
execution.  He  was  a  great  favorite  during  his  lifetime." 

Miss  Helen  J.  Ormerod's  paper  on  Browning's  poems  re- 
lating to  music,  published  in  the  ninth  number  of  the  Brown- 
ing Society's  Papers,  gives  an  account  of  the  musical  sig- 
nificance of  this  poem.  "  What  a  scene  rises  before  us," 
she  says,"  as  Baldassare  Galuppi  plays  his  Toccata  on  the 
tinkling  clavichord  of  the  day,  and  with  what  a  master  hand 
the  poet  sketches  in  for  us,  so  to  speak,  the  dramatic  back- 
ground !  The  beautiful  Italian  spring  weather,  the  sea 
warm  in  the  May  sunshine,  but  then,  as  now,  balls  and 
masks  proving  more  attractive  to  the  fashionable  throng 
than  the  sweet  spring-tide  of  Nature ;  suddenly  a  couple  of 
dancers  are  singled  out  of  the  crowd,  and  we  have  a  glimpse 
of  a  Venetian  beauty  and  her  cavalier.  .  .  .  The  old  favor- 
ite awed  his  listeners  into  silence  by  the  magic  of  his  touch  ; 
but  some  mighty  reason  must  have  existed  to  command  si- 
lence in  that  gay  throng,  for  the  hearing  of  a  Toccata  ! 

"  The  minor  predominated  in  this  quaint  old  piece  (Toc- 
cata, by  the  way,  means  Touch-piece,  and  probably  was 
written  to  display  the  delicacy  of  the  composer's  touch)  is 
evident  from  the  mention  of  '  those  lesser  thirds  so  plaint- 
ive, sixths  diminished,  sigh  on  sigh ;  those  commiserating 
sevenths.'  The  interval  of  the  third  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant :  the  signature  of  a  piece  may  mislead  one,  the  same 
signature  standing  for  a  major  key  and  its  relative  minor  ; 
but  the  third  of  the  opening  chord  decides  the  question,  a 
lesser  '  plaintive  '  third  (composed  of  a  tone  and  a  semitone) 
showing  the  key  to  be  minor,  the  greater  third  (composed 
of  two  whole  tones)  showing  the  key  to  be  major.  Pauer 


To  Edward  Fitzgerald.  419 

tells  that '  the  minor  third  gives  the  idea  of  tenderness,  grief, 
and  romantic  feeling.'  Next  come  the  '  diminished  sixths  : ' 
these  are  sixths  possessing  a  semitone  less  than  a  minor 
sixth,  for  instance  from  C  sharp  to  A  flat ;  this  interval  in 
a  different  key  would  stand  as  a  perfect  fifth.  '  These  sus- 
pensions, these  solutions,'  —  a  suspension  is  the  stoppage  of 
one  or  more  parts  for  a  moment,  while  the  others  move  on  ; 
this  produces  a  dissonance,  which  is  only  resolved  by  the 
parts  which  produced  it,  moving  on  to  the  position  which 
would  have  been  theirs  had  the  parts  moved  simultaneously. 
We  can  understand  that  '  these  suspensions,  these  solutions  ' 
might  teach  the  Venetians,  as  they  teach  us,  lessons  of  ex- 
perience and  hope ;  light  after  darkness,  joy  after  sorrow, 
smiles  after  tears.  '  These  commiserating  sevenths  : '  of  all 
dissonances,  none  is  so  pleasing  to  the  ear  or  so  attractive  to 
musicians  as  that  of  minor  and  diminished  sevenths,  that  of 
the  major  seventh  being  crude  and  harsh  ;  in  fact  the  minor 
seventh  is  so  charming  in  its  discord  as  to  suggest  concord. 
Again,  to  quote  from  Pauer  :  '  It  is  the  antithesis  of  discord 
and  concord  which  fascinates  and  charms  the  ear ;  it  is  the 
necessary  solution  and  return  to  unity  which  delights  us.'  • 

"  After  all  this,  the  love-making  begins  again,  but  kisses 
are  interrupted  by  the  'dominant's  persistence  [the  domi- 
nant is  the  fifth,  the  most  characteristic  note  of  the  scale] 
till  it  must  be  answered  to  ; '  this  seems  to  indicate  the  close 
of  the  piece,  the  dominant  being  answered  by  an  octave 
which  suggests  the  perfect  authentic  cadence,  in  which  the 
chord  of  the  dominant  is  followed  by  that  of  the  tonic." 

The  authorities  on  Galuppi  are  Grove's  Dictionary  of 
Music  and  Musicians,  Champlin  and  Apthorp's  Cyclopce- 
dia  of  Music  and  Musicians,  Hogarth's  Memoirs  of  the 
Musical  Drama,  Fetis'  Biographic  Universelle  des  Musi- 
dens,  Burney's  Present  State  of  Music  in  France  and 
Italy  (1771),  and  Vernon  Lee's  Studies. 

See  Corson's  Introduction.  In  the  eleventh  number  of 
The  Browning  Society's  Papers  is  a  paper  on  this  poem  by 
Mrs.  Alexander  Ireland,  which  contains  an  analysis  of  its 
thought,  and  an  account  of  Galuppi. 

To  Edward  Fitzgerald.  In  1889  was  published  Let- 
ters and  Literary  Remains  of  Edward  Fitzgerald,  edited  by 
William  Aldis  Wright.  In  a  letter  written  by  Fitzgerald, 


420  To  Edward  Fitzgerald. 

July  15, 1861,  to  an  intimate  friend,  he  said  :  "  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing's death  is  rather  a  relief  to  me,  I  must  say.  No  more 
'  Aurora  Leighs,'  thank  God  !  A  woman  of  real  Genius, 
I  know  ;  but  what  is  the  upshot  of  it  all  ?  She  and  her 
Sex  had  better  mind  the  Kitchen  and  their  Children  and 
perhaps  the  Poor.  Except  in  such  things  as  little  Novels 
they  only  devote  themselves  to  what  Men  do  much  better, 
leaving  that  which  Men  do  worse  or  not  at  all."  This 
thoroughly  Oriental  conception  of  woman,  probably  bred  in 
Fitzgerald  by  his  Eastern  studies  and  expressed  in  the  spirit 
of  the  harem,  when  read  by  Browning  provoked  from  him 
a  poetic  reply.  Browning's  deep  and  profound  love  for  his 
wife  could  not  brook  the  insult,  and  his  reply  was  published 
in  The  Athenaeum  of  July  13,  1889  :  — 

TO  EDWARD  FITZGERALD. 

I  chanced  upon  a  new  book  yesterday  ; 
I  opened  it,  and,  where  nay  finger  lay 

'Twixt  page  and  uncut  page,  these  words  I  read,  — 
Some  six  or  seven  at  most,  —  and  learned  thereby 
That  you,  Fitzgerald,  whom  by  ear  and  eye 

She  never  knew,  "  thanked  God  my  wife  was  dead  !  " 

Ay,  dead !  and  were  yourself  alive,  good  Fitz, 
How  to  return  you  thanks  would  task  my  wits : 
Kicking  you  seems  the  common  lot  of  curs  — 
While  more  appropriate  greeting  lends  you  grace : 
Surely  to  spit  there  glorifies  your  face  — 

Spitting  —  from  lips  once  sanctified  by  Hers. 
July  8,  1889. 

The  Athenaeum  of  July  20  contained  a  note  from  the 
editor  of  Fitzgerald's  Letters,  apologizing  for  the  publica- 
tion of  the  offensive  words  :  — 

"  TRINITY  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE,  July  16,  1889. 
"  I  feel  that  by  a  grave  oversight  I  have  allowed  a  sen- 
tence to  stand  in  one  of  Edward  Fitzgerald's  letters  which 
has  stirred  the  just  resentment  of  Mr.  Browning.  Fitzge- 
rald's expression  was  evidently  thrown  off  with  the  freedom 
that  men  permit  themselves  in  correspondence  with  their  in- 
timate friends ;  and  I  feel  how  great  an  injustice  I  have 
done  to  Fitzgerald  in  making  public  what  was  but  the  care- 
less outburst  of  a  passing  mood,  and  thus  investing  it  with  a 
significance  which  was  never  designed.  That  I  should  have 


Tokay.  —  Transcendentalism.  421 

allowed  a  passage  to  remain  which  has  so  wronged  the  dead 
and  pained  the  living  causes  me,  I  need  not  say,  extreme 
vexation,  and  I  can  only  beg  publicly  to  express  my  sincere 
regret.  WILLIAM  ALDIS  WRIGHT." 

Tokay.     See  Nationality  in  Drinks. 

Too  Late.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

Touch  him  ne'er  so  lightly.  The  epilogue  to  Dra- 
matic Idyls,  second  series,  begins  with  these  words.  It 
shows  how  everything  is  the  source  of  song  to  the  poet  soul. 
This  poem  was  added  to  by  the  poet  in  the  manner  de- 
scribed in  The  Century  for  November,  1882  :  — 

"  The  little  book,  some  of  whose  pages  we  herewith  re- 
produce, is  a  tiny  autograph  album,  whose  blue  plush  covers 
contain,  not  a  mere  list  of  names  wrung  from  bored  but  com- 
plaisant notabilities,  but  all  sorts  of  willing  and  charming 
tributes  of  friendship  in  verse,  in  prose,  in  picture.  We  can 
no  further  tell  who  is  the  owner  of  this  marvelous  little  al- 
bum than  that  it  is  a  young  American.  It  is  in  the  name 
of  charity  that  she  lets  us  print  (with  the  consent  of  the 
authors  and  their  representatives)  two  of  its  most  notable 
contributions.  The  Browning  lines  have  a  personal  inter- 
est ;  the  first  ten  appeared  in  one  of  his  latest  volumes  ;  the 
last  ten  are  new,  and  are  in  explanation  (where  none  should 
have  been  demanded)  of  one  of  his  finest  and  most  charac- 
teristic utterances." 

Thus  I  wrote  in  London,  musing'  on  my  betters, 
Poets  dead  and  gone  ;  and  lo,  the  critics  cried, 
"  Out  on  such  a  boast !  "  as  if  I  dreamed  that  fetters 
Binding  Dante  bind  up  —  me  !  as  if  true  pride 
Were  not  also  humble  I 

So  I  smiled  and  sighed 

As  I  oped  your  book  in  Venice  this  bright  morning', 
Sweet  new  friend  of  mine !  and  felt  the  clay  or  sand, 
Whatsoe'er  my  soil  be,  break  —  for  praise  or  scorning  — 
Out  in  grateful  fancies  —  weeds ;  but  weeds  expand 
Almost  into  flowers,  held  by  such  a  kindly  hand. 
VENICE,  October,  1880.  ROBERT  BROWNING. 

"  Transcendentalism  :  A  Poem  in  Twelve 
Books."  Men  and  Women,  1855. 

The  poet  speaks  to  a  young  realistic  poet,  who  is  writing 
a  poem  in  twelve  books  on  transcendentalism,  and  advises 
him  not  to  make  his  song  too  naked,  in  its  attempt  to  de- 


422  Transcendentalism. 

scribe  life  as  it  is.  In  reality  men  want  images  and  melody 
in  their  poetry,  not  reason.  As  illustration  the  poet  intro- 
duces Boehnie  and  John  of  Halberstadt,  to  prove  how 
desirous  men  are  for  what  appeals  to  the  imagination. 

Jacob  Boehme  was  born  at  Altseidenberg,  near  Gbrlitz, 
Prussia,  in  1575,  and  died  at  Dresden,  November  7,  1624. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of  mystics,  a  man  of 
great  originality,  who  wrote  many  books  on  the  inner  mean- 
ings of  religion,  and  who  in  many  ways  resembled  Sweden- 
borg.  His  book  called  Aurora  is  perhaps  the  best  known 
and  most  characteristic  of  his  works.  He  saw  hidden 
meanings  in  all  nature ;  and  the  Bible  he  interpreted  into 
an  elaborate  system  of  symbolism.  The  best  book  on  this 
remarkable  man  is  Martenson's  Jacob  Boehme  :  His  Life 
and  Teaching.  Something  about  him  may  be  found  in 
Erdmann's  History  of  Philosophy,  and  in  Overtoil's  William 
Law,  Non-juror  and  Mystic.  The  incident  of  Boehme's 
hearing  the  plants  speak  is  thus  described  by  Martenson : 

"  Sitting  one  day  in  his  room,  his  eye  fell  upon  a  burnished 
pewter  dish,  which  reflected  the  sunshine  with  such  marvel- 
ous splendor  that  he  fell  into  an  inward  ecstasy,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  as  if  he  could  now  look  into  the  principles 
and  deepest  foundations  of  things.  He  believed  that  it  was 
only  a  fancy,  and  in  order  to  banish  it  from  his  mind  he 
went  out  upon  the  green.  But  here  he  remarked  that  he 
gazed  into  the  very  heart  of  things,  the  very  herbs  and 
grass,  and  that  actual  nature  harmonized  with  what  he  had 
inwardly  seen." 

Johann  Semeca,  known  as  Teutonicus,  was  a  canonist  and 
ecclesiastical  dignitary  of  Halberstadt,  who  wrote  a  com- 
mentary on  the  Decretum  Gratiani.  He  was  also  a  magi- 
cian and  astrologer,  and  caused  flowers  to  appear  in  winter. 
The  poet  says  he  filled  the  room  with  roses  by  magic,  a 
feat  not  uncommon  during  the  Middle  Ages.  In  Thomas 
Hey  wood's  Hierarchy,  book  iv.  p.  253,  another  of  his 
magical  tricks  is  described :  "  Johannes  Teutonicus,  a  canon 
of  Halberstadt  in  Germany,  after  he  had  performed  a  num- 
ber of  prestigious  feats  almost  incredible,  was  transported 
by  the  Devil  in  the  likeness  of  a  black  horse,  and  was  both 
seen  and  heard  upon  one  and  the  same  Christmas  day  to 
say  mass  in  Halberstadt,  in  Mayntz,  and  in  Cologne." 


Tray.  —  The  Twins.  423 

The  poem  in  twelve  books  on  transcendentalism  had  no 
existence  except  in  the  imagination  of  the  poet.     It  is  the 
work  upon  which  the  young  poet  is  supposed  to  be  engaged. 
Tray.     Dramatic  Idyls,  1879. 

This  poem  describes  an  actual  incident  witnessed  in  Paris 
by  a  friend  of  Browning's,  and  with  accuracy  of  detail. 
The  poem  was  written  as  a  protest  against  vivisection,  which 
the  poet  called  "  an  infamous  practice."  He  was  early  asso- 
ciated with  Miss  Frances  Power  Cobbe  in  her  efforts  to 
prevent  vivisection ;  and  he  was  a  vice-president  of  the 
"  Victoria  Street  Society  for  the  Protection  of  Animals." 
Dr.  Berdoe  says,  "  He  always  expressed  the  utmost  abhor- 
rence of  the  practices  which  it  opposes."  To  Miss  Cobbe 
he  wrote  in  1874 :  "  You  have  heard,  '  I  take  an  equal  in- 
terest with  yourself  in  the  effort  to  suppress  vivisection.'  I 
dare  not  so  honor  my  mere  wishes  and  prayers  as  to  put 
them  for  a  moment  beside  your  noble  acts  ;  but  this  I  know, 
I  would  rather  sifbmit  to  the  worst  of  deaths,  so  far  as  pain 
goes,  than  have  a  single  dog  or  cat  tortured  on  the  pretense 
of  sparing  me  a  twinge  or  two."  He  goes  even  so  far  as  to 
say  that  the  person  not  willing  to  sign  the  petition  against 
vivisection  certainly  could  not  be  numbered  among  his 
friends.  To  Miss  Stackpoole  he  wrote  in  April,  1883 :  "  I 
despise  and  abhor  the  pleas  on  behalf  of  that  infamous 
practice,  vivisection." 

Dr.  Berdoe  says  of  this  poem  :  "  The  poet  ridicules  the 
idea  that  the  seat  of  the  soul  can  be  discovered  by  a  more 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  brain,  and  bitterly  satirizes  the 
heartlessness  and  base  ingratitude  of  our  physiologists  who 
use  the  dog,  notwithstanding  his  intimate  relationship  to 
and  friendship  for  man,  as  the  material  for  the  cruel  experi- 
ments in  the  physiological  laboratory.  Not  only  did  Mr. 
Browning  think  this  to  be  useless  and  wicked,  but  he 
denounced  it  as  cowardly,  even  if  it  could  be  proved  to  be 
useful." 

See  Browning's  Message  to  his  Time,  by  Edward  Berdoe. 
Twins,  The.  This  poem  first  appeared  in  a  little 
volume  published  in  1854,  which  bore  the  title  of  Two 
Poems  by  E.  B.  B.  and  R.  B.  It  contained  A  Plea  for 
the  Ragged  Schools  of  London,  by  Mrs.  Browning ;  and 
The  Twins,  by  Robert  Browning.  The  volume,  of  sixteen 


424     Two  Camels.  —  The,  Two  Poets  of  Croisic. 

pages,  was  published  by  Chapman  &  Hall,  London ;  and 
it  was  printed  by  Miss  Arabella  Barrett,  Mrs.  Browning's 
sister,  for  a  bazaar  to  benefit  the  "  Refuge  for  Young  Desti- 
tute Girls,"  Which  she  started  in  or  about  the  year  1854. 
This  refuge,  if  not  the  first  of  its  kind,  was  one  of  the  first, 
and  is  still  in  existence.  Men  and  Women,  1855  ;  Ro- 
mances, 1863  ;  Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

This  poem  is  a  poetical  rendering  of  a  passage  in  the 
Table  Talk  of  Martin  Luther,  which  in  William  Hazlitt's 
translation  is  numbered  three  hundred  and  sixteen,  and  is 
among  the  sayings  "  Of  Justification  :  "  "  Give  and  it  shall 
be  given  unto  you  ;  this  is  a  fine  maxim,  and  makes  people 
poor  and  rich.  .  .  .  There  is  in  Austria  a  monastery  which, 
in  former  times,  was  very  rich,  and  remained  rich  so  long 
as  it  was  charitable  to  the  poor ;  but  when  it  ceased  to  give, 
then  it  became  indigent,  and  is  so  to  this  day.  Not  long 
since,  a  poor  man  went  there  and  solicited  alms,  which  was 
denied  him ;  he  demanded  the  cause  why  they  refused  to 
give  for  God's  sake?  The  porter  of  the  monastery  an- 
swered :  '  We  are  become  poor  ; '  whereupon  the  mendicant 
said  :  '  The  cause  of  your  poverty  is  this  :  Ye  had  formerly 
in  this  monastery  two  brethren,  the  one  named  Date  (give), 
and  the  other  Dabitur  (it  shall  be  given  you).  The  former 
ye  thrust  out ;  and  the  other  went  away  of  himself.  .  .  .  Be- 
loved, he  that  desires  to  have  anything  must  also  give ;  a 
liberal  hand  was  never  in  want  or  empty.'  " 

Two  Camels.     Ferishtah's  Fancies,  1884. 

Nishapur  and  Sebzevar  are  two  Persian  towns.  —  For 
an  account  of  Lilith  see  in  this  volume  Adam,,  Lilith,  and 
Eve.  —  The  first  Hebrew  quotation  is  translated  as  a  "  Per- 
sian phrase  "  in  the  following  line ;  the  second  is  "  Me  Elo- 
him  "  (from  Elohim),  one  of  the  names  of  God  in  Genesis. 

Two  in  the  Campagna.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868.  In  his  Life  of 
Browning,  Sharp  mentions  this  poem  as  having  been  based 
on  personal  experience,  during  the  residence  of  the  poet 
and  his  wife  in  Rome,  in  the  spring  of  1850.  He  attributes 
no  value  to  this  experience,  however,  as  an  element  in  the 
production  of  the  poem. 

Two  Poets  of  Croisic,  The.  Published  in  1878,  by 
Smith,  Elder  &  Co.,  London,  in  La  Saisiax  :  The  Two 


The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic.  425 

Poets  of  Croisic,  pages,  87-191,  with  prologue  and  epi- 
logue. 

The  scene  of  this  poem  is  a  village  on  the  southern  coast 
of  Brittany,  France.  It  lies  about  half  way  between  Nantes 
and  Vannes,  but  off  the  main  route  of  travel,  on  a  little 
peninsula,  which  also  bears  the  name  of  Le  Croisic,  that 
projects  into  the  Bay  of  Biscay.  Baedeker's  Northern 
France  describes  the  place  in  the  concise  manner  of  the 
guide-book :  "  Le  Croisic,  a  seaport  with  2,460  inhabitants, 
is  one  of  the  most  fashionable  watering-places  in  La  Basse 
Bretagne.  It  is  finely  situated  on  a  small  bay  near  the  ex- 
tremity of  the  peninsula,  and  contains  a  casino  and  many 
pleasant  villas.  Its  beach  is  not  so  sheltered  as  .that  of  the 
places  mentioned  above,  and  the  sea-water  is  strong ;  but 
there  are  many  shady  walks  in  and  near  it.  The  sardine 
fishing  occupies  a  large  proportion  of  the  inhabitants  of  Le 
Croisic." 

In  her  Through  Brittany,  Mrs.  Katherine  S.  Macquoid 
describes  the  place  as  having  an  hotel  and  e*tablissement  des 
bains,  a  hydropathic  establishment,  and  in  the  town  a  small, 
cheap  boarding-house,  Pension  Jeanne.  In  describing  her 
visit  to  the  village,  of  which  her  book  gives  an  illustration, 
Mrs.  Macquoid  says  :  "  We  drove  on  to  Le  Croisic  through 
the  salt  marshes.  These  perpetual  long  squares  into  which 
the  country  is  divided  give  a  dull,  monotonous  effect ;  but 
before  us,  and  indeed  all  around  us,  we  could  see  the  sea, 
and  very  soon  we  reached  Le  Croisic.  At  first  sight  it 
looks  like  a  dull  little  fishing-village.  The  port  is  com 
pletely  enclosed  by  small  islands,  and  a  long  artificial  cause- 
way, called  the  Chausse'e  de  Pembron,  built  to  preserve  the 
salt  marshes  from  the  inroads  of  the  sea,  for  there  seems  to 
be  little  doubt  that  the  whole  of  the  peninsula,  including  Le 
Croisic,  Batz,  and  Le  Pouliguen,  was  at  one  time  an  island, 
and  that  by  degrees  the  channel  between  it  and  the  mainland 
has  transformed  itself  into  salt-marshes.  There  are  plenty 
of  fishing-boats  and  stalwart-looking  fishermen  ;  but,  follow- 
ing the  straggling  line  of  granite  houses  which  surrounds 
the  bay,  we  remarked  that  many  of  them  were  very  curious, 
and  almost  all  were  very  ancient  in  appearance.  Farther 
on  is  some  higher  ground,  grassed  sand-hills  with  furze  and 
broom  at  intervals,  and  shaded  by  trees,  and  from  this,  at 


426  The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic. 

some  distance,  we  saw  the  pier  stretching  into  the  sea. 
Near  the  pier  are  the  ^tablissement  des  bains  and  the  hotel. 
.  .  .  There  is  little  to  see  in  Le  Croisic  itself,  though  it  is 
a  good  plan  to  stay  a  few  days  there,  so  as  to  see  some- 
thing of  the  very  original  inhabitants  of  this  peninsula.  The 
church  Notre  Dame  de  la  Piti£  is  not  remarkable.  An- 
other chapel,  St.  Goustan,  is  now  closed,  but  the  women  of 
Croisic  still  pray  there  for  those  at  sea.  From  the  Mont 
Esprit,  at  the  end  of  the  promenade  called  Le  Mail,  there 
is  an  excellent  view  of  the  town  and  harbor  of  Le  Croisic  ; 
the  town  surrounded  by  the  sandy  waste  of  salt  pans,  and 
rising  from  these  the  church  towers  of  Batz  and  of  La 
Gue"rande.§  Beyond  the  harbor  is  the  Atlantic  ;  there  is  a 
fine  sea  view  from  Mont  Lenigo.  The  population  seems  to 
be  partly  composed  of  fishermen  and  partly  of  salt-workers  ; 
but  there  is  here,  as  well  as  in  the  Bourg  de  Batz,  a  certain 
separateness  and  exclusiveness  of  both  costume  and  ideas. 
The  people  of  Le  Croisic  call  themselves  Croisicais,  in  con- 
tradistinction to  Bretons,  but  they  do  not  seem  so  fine  a 
race  as  the  people  of  the  Bourg  de  Batz.  Alain  Bouchart, 
the  historian,  was  born  at  Le  Croisic ;  and  in  the  fifteenth 
century  this  town  seems  to  have  been  rich  and  prosperous, 
the  centre  of  the  salt-trade." 

Mrs.  Bury  Palliser,  in  her  Brittany  and  its  Byways, 
gives  an  illustration  of  Le  Croisic,  and  of  the  process  of 
making  salt  on  the  marshes,  which  is  carried  on  extensively 
in  the  neighborhood.  She  gives  additional  information 
about  the  place :  ''  We  drove  on  to  Le  Croisic,  in  Breton, 
'  Little  Cross,'  so  called  from  the  small  Chapel  of  the  Cruci- 
fix, built  to  commemorate  the  baptism  by  St.  Felix,  Bishop 
of  Nantes,  in  the  sixth  century,  of  the  Saxon  colony  who 
occupied  the  peninsula.  Le  Croisic  was  one  of  the  first 
towns  in  Brittany  which  received  Christianity,  and  bears  for 
its  arms  a  cross  between  four  ermines.  Along  the  roadside 
are  cisterns  or  wells  dug  in  the  sand,  and  girls  were  filling 
with  water  the  classical  stone  pitchers  they  carried  upon 
their  heads,  —  quite  an  Eastern  picture,  suggestive  of  Re- 
becca and  the  damsels  of  her  country.  Le  Croisic  is  almost 
surrounded  by  the  sea,  low  and  without  shelter,  which  ren- 
ders it  cold,  damp,  and  exposed  to  the  winds  ;  turf  is  almost 
the  only  fuel  used."  Batz  and  La  GueVande  are  villages  on 


The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic.  427 

the  peninsula  of  Le  Croisic  and  near  the  village  of  that 
name.  Herve  Riel,  the  hero  of  Browning's  poem  with  that 
title,  was  a  native  of  Le  Croisic. 

Le  Croisic  does  a  good  business  in  salt,  herrings,  mack- 
erel, and  especially  has  a  large  market  for  sardines.  The 
town  has  a  custom-house,  justice  of  the  peace,  church,  hos- 
pital, and  a  convent.  The  freestone  belfry  of  the  church 
Notre  Dame  de  la  Pitie'  serves  as  a  beacon  for  sailors.  A 
light-house  is  located  at  the  entrance  to  the  harbor.  The 
place  was  founded  by  the  Saxons  in  the  fifth  century,  and 
it  obtained  many  privileges  during  the  reign  of  the  Dukes 
of  Burgundy. 

Mrs.  Palliser  describes  in  one  of  her  chapters  the  Druidi- 
cal  monuments  at  Carnac  in  Morbihan,  only  a  short  distance 
from  Le  Croisic,  to  which  Browning  refers  in  the  poem. 
This  region  was  the  seat  of  the  Druids  in  the  time  of  their 
prosperity,  and  here  they  gathered  from  all  the  places  of 
their  worship  for  conference  and  the  most  imposing  rites. 
The  remarkable  monuments  at  Carnac  and  elsewhere  in  this 
region  are  described  in  both  the  books  just  mentioned,  as 
well  as  in  other  works. 

Browning  spent  one  or  more  summers  in  Le  Croisic  and 
its  neighborhood,  and  out  of  this  actual  acquaintance  with 
the  village  grew  the  poem.  He  heard  the  traditions  con- 
cerning two  poets  who  once  lived  in  the  village,  and  these 
he  relates  as  they  came  to  him  on  the  spot.  The  first  of 
these  is  Rene1  Gentilhomme,  of  whom  little  is  known,  so  little 
that  his  name  does  not  appear  in  any  of  the  usual  sources 
of  information  on  biographical  and  literary  subjects.  He 
was  a  native  of  Le  Croisic,  born  in  1610.  He  was  a  maker 
of  verses,  as  was  his  father  before  him.  Having  become 
the  page  of  the  prince  of  Conde",  he  spent  his  leisure  in 
writing  complimentary  verses.  As  Louis  XIII.  and  his 
brother  were  both  childless,  the  prince  of  Conde*,  usually 
called  the  Duke,  was  the  heir  to  the  throne.  One  day  a 
ducal  crown  in  the  room  where  Rene*  sat  was  shattered  by 
lightning.  He  took  this  as  a  sign  from  heaven  that  the 
prince  of  Conde*  was  not  to  become  king ;  and  he  made  a 
bold  poem,  in  which  he  declared  that  a  dauphin  would  be 
born  the  next  year.  When  this  came  to  the  king's  ears,  he 
made  Rene*  his  royal  poet.  As  a  dauphin  was  born  the  next 


428  The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic. 

year,  Rene"  was  regarded  as  a  seer,  and  got  all  the  honors 
due  that  kind  of  a  personage.  After  this  the  poet  wrote 
no  more  poetry,  and  a  thin  volume  of  rhymes  was  all  that 
could  be  given  to  the  public  as  the  product  of  his  muse. 

A  hundred  years  later,  another  poet  was  born  in  Le  Croi- 
sic, and  he  tried  to  find  out  all  he  could  about  Rene"  Gen- 
tilhomme ;  but  he  found  little  information  to  reward  his 
search.  This  later  poet  was  born  in  1699,  and  his  name 
was  Paul  Desforges-Maillard.  He  was  a  man  of  some 
importance  in  his  neighborhood,  for  he  was  a  member  of 
the  academies  of  Rochelle,  Caen,  and  Nancy.  Almost 
nothing  is  now  known  of  him,  except  an  incident  which 
occurred  in  connection  with  his  competition  for  a  prize  on 
the  art  of  navigation,  offered  by  the  French  Academy.  He 
did  not  obtain  the  prize,  and  his  poem  was  returned  to  him. 
At  this  he  was  indignant,  and  his  indignation  led  him  to 
seek  to  prove  to  the  public  that  he  had  not  been  justly  dealt 
with  by  the  judges.  To  this  end  he  sent  his  poems  to  Le 
Mercure,  but  the  editor,  La  Roque,  respectfully  declined 
to  print  them.  Desforges  insisted  upon  their  publication, 
taking  the  editor's  praise,  and  his  declaration  that  he  did 
not  wish  to  offend  the  Academy,  as  an  expression  of  cow- 
ardice. When  he  wrote  La  Roque  an  angry  letter,  taking  him 
to  task  for  his  want  of  bravery  and  justice,  the  editor  threw 
his  poems  into  the  fire,  and  wrote  him  that  they  were  too  poor 
to  print.  Desforges,  in  despair  at  this  cruel  cutting  short 
of  the  fame  he  had  hoped  for,  had  recourse  to  a  singular 
artifice.  He  was  living  then  at  Brederac,  close  to  a  vine- 
yard called  Malcrais.  Taking  a  sister  into  his  confidence, 
he  had  her  copy  out  some  of  his  poorest  poems,  which  he 
sent  to  La  Roque  as  the  poems  of  Mile.  Malcrais  de  la 
Vigne.  With  these  the  editor  was  greatly  delighted,  com- 
ing to  him  as  they  did  in  a  feminine  handwriting,  and  per- 
haps with  a  little  feminine  flattery  added.  La  Roque  not 
only  printed  the  poems,  but  wrote  a  most  glowing  letter  to 
the  supposed  poetess,  and  even  conceived  a  violent  passion 
for  the  muse  of  Le  Croisic.  He  took  the  liberty  of  writing 
her :  "  I  love  you,  my  dear  friend  of  Brittany.  Pardon  me 
this  confession,  but  the  words  have  slipped  from  my  pen." 
La  Roque  was  not  the  only  one  duped  by  this  poetical  de- 
ception. One  could  not  speak  enough  in  Paris  of  the  verses 


The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic.  429 

of  the  divine  Malcrais.  There  was  not  a  poet  who  was  not 
eager  to  render  her  honor  through  the  medium  of  Le 
Mercure.  Voltaire  and  Destouches,  among  the  leading 
authors,  made  themselves  the  most  conspicuous  ;  and  they 
were  for  the  moment  jealous  of  each  other  because  of  the 
answers,  more  or  less  tender,  which  they  received  from  the 
coquette.  Voltaire  wrote  of  her  this  line :  "  Thou  whose 
brilliant  voice  hast  resounded  upon  our  banks."  This  poem 
was  printed  in  the  works  of  Voltaire,  and  of  all  the  many 
verses  with  which  the  false  Malcrais  inspired  her  lovers 
these  are  the  only  ones  which  remain.  Those  of  Destouches 
had  no  value  whatever,  and  have  passed  into  oblivion. 

When  Desforges  at  last  grew  tired  of  his  little  comedy, 
and  revealed  his  true  sex,  most  of  his  admirers  were  at  first 
not  a  little  ashamed  because  of  the  public  part  he  had  made 
them  play  as  his  admirers.  As  soon  as  they  had  recovered 
from  the  first  surprise  and  mortification,  they  saw  that  the 
mystery  he  had  created  was  more  awkward  for  him  than 
for  them.  They  sought  to  depreciate  his  verses  and  to  ren- 
der him  ridiculous  ;  and  this  it  was  easy  to  accomplish,  for 
he  had  too  little  real  merit  to  resist  the  reaction  which  his 
own  methods  had  created. 

Some  time  after  this  occurrence  Desforges,  who  was  not 
rich,  begged  of  Voltaire  to  aid  him  in  finding  friends  and  a 
position  in  Paris.  The  author  of  Zaire,  who  was  too  cun- 
ning or  too  generous  to  harbor  the  least  resentment,  exerted 
himself  with  a  good  grace  to  help  the  once  famous  writer  of 
Le  Mercure.  "  I  am  reminded  always,"  wrote  Voltaire, 
"  of  the  coquetries  of  Mdlle.  Malcrais,  in  spite  of  your 
beard  and  of  mine ;  and  if  I  cannot  make  love  to  you,  I 

will  try  and  render  you  a  service.  I  expect  to  see  M. , 

the  controleur-ge'ne'ral,  this  summer.  I  shall  look  for  a 
good  opportunity  to  serve  you ;  and  I  shall  be  very  happy 
if  I  can  obtain  something  from  the  Plutus  of  Versailles  in 
favor  of  the  Apollo  of  Brittany."  It  would  appear,  how- 
ever, that  the  praises  of  Voltaire  were  greater  than  his  prac- 
tical helpfulness. 

Very  correct  in  his  morals  and  upright  in  his  character, 
Desforges  has  not  ranked  high  as  a  poet.  He  was  destitute 
of  taste,  and  his  style  was  flat  and  verbose.  A  few  of  his 
poetical  tales  remind  one  in  a  distant  way  of  the  epigrams 


430          Up  at  a  Villa  —  Down  in  the  City. 

of  Rousseau.  The  Poesies  de  Mile.  Malcrais  de  la  Vigne 
were  published  in  1735,  and  a  volume  of  Idyls  by  Des- 
forges  was  published  in  1751.  His  Works  in  Verse  and 
Prose  were  issued  in  two  volumes  at  Amsterdam  in  1759. 
Paul  Desforges-Maillard  died  December  10,  1772.  The 
incident  which  forms  the  chief  event  in  the  life  of  Des- 
forges  became  the  subject  of  a  comedy  by  Piron,  which  he 
called  Metromanie.  See  Biographie  Universelle  for  the 
leading  facts  in  the  life  of  Desforges. 

The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic  was  begun  at  the  village  from 
which  the  poem  takes  its  name  in  the  autumn  of  1868. 
Browning  was  at  Le  Croisic  with  his  sister  during  the  month 
of  September  of  that  year,  and  then  it  was  he  came  into 
possession  of  the  facts  he  has  used  in  the  poem.  The  in- 
cidents of  which  he  makes  use,  as  well  as  those  connected 
with  the  career  of  nerve*  Kiel,  he  found  in  books  devoted  to 
local  history  and  traditions.  See  Supplement. 

Up  at  a  Villa  —  Down  in  the  City.  (As  distin- 
guished by  an  Italian  Person  of  Quality.)  Men 
and  Women,  1855.  Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Valence.  In  Colonibe's  Birthday,  an  advocate  of 
Cleves.  He  is  the  representative  of  Prince  Berthold,  —  the 
lawful  claimant  to  the  duchy  held  by  Colombe.  He  loves 
Colombe,  and  is  finally  accepted  by  her  in  preference  to  the 
prince,  who  does  not  love  her.  See  The  Browning  Soci- 
ety's Papers,  2  : 87,  for  a  study  of  this  character. 

Verse-making  was  the  least  of  my  virtues.  The 
first  words  of  the  ninth  lyric  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

Vincent  Parkes.  In  Martin  Relph,  the  lover  of  Rosa- 
mund Page,  a  girl  who  is  to  be  shot  for  treason  unless  he 
brings  proof  of  her  innocence  within  a  given  time.  At  the 
last  moment  Relph  sees  him  coming,  but  gives  no  warning ; 
Rosamund  is  shot,  and  Parkes,  hearing  the  volley,  falls 
dead. 

Violante  Comparini.  The  reputed  mother  of  Pompi- 
lia,  in  The  Ring  and  the  Book.  She  had  bought  Pompilia 
of  a  bad  woman,  palmed  off  the  child  on  her  husband  as 
her  own,  secured  her  marriage  to  Count  Guido,  confessed 
her  sin  when  she  found  it  was  the  best  policy,  and  was 
murdered  by  the  count  in  company  with  her  husband  and 
Pompilia. 


A  Wall  — Waring.  431 

Wall,  A.  The  prologue  to  Pacchiarotto  was  printed 
under  this  title  in  the  Second  Series  of  Selections  made  from 
his  poems  by  Browning,  1880.  See,  in  this  work,  Prologue 
to  Pacchiarotto. 

"Wanting  is  —  What  ?     Jocoseria,  1883. 

A  lyrical  plea  for  that  love  which  perfects  life,  which 
Browning  describes,  in  the  fifty-fifth  section  of  Fifine  at 
the  Fair,  as  "  the  beautiful." 

Waring.  Dramatic  Lyrics,  third  number  of  Bells  and 
Pomegranates,  1842.  Poems,  1849 ;  Romances,  1863 ; 
Dramatic  Romances,  1868. 

The  Waring  of  this  poem  was  Alfred  Domett,  the  poet, 
who  was  born  in  the  same  neighborhood  as  Browning, 
grew  up  with  him,  and  associated  with  him  in  his  studies 
and  poetical  labors.  He  is  also  mentioned  in  The  Guar- 
dian Angel,  where  he  is  called  "  Alfred,  dear  friend  !  " 

Alfred  Domett,  son  of  Nathaniel  Domett,  was  born  at 
Camberwell  Grove,  Surrey,  May  20,  1811.  His  father  was 
a  seaman  under  Nelson,  and  a  gallant  sailor.  Alfred  en- 
tered St.  John's  College,  Cambridge,  in  1829  ;  but  after  a 
residence  of  three  years  he  left  without  graduation.  His 
attention  was  early  turned  to  literature,  and  in  1832  he 
published  a  volume  of  poems.  He  also  contributed  to 
Blackwood's  Magazine  various  lyrics  which  attracted  atten- 
tion to  him  as  a  rising  poet.  One  of  these  was  A  Christmas 
Hymn,  which  is  the  best  known  of  all  his  poems,  and  has 
been  highly  praised.  It  may  be  found  in  several  poetical 
collections,  and  among  them  Festival  Poems.  In  1839,  in 
the  same  magazine,  he  published  a  poem  on  Venice. 

Domett  was  called  to  the  bar  in  1841,  and  lived  in  the 
Middle  Temple  with  Joseph  Arnold,  who  became  Chief 
Justice  of  Bombay.  He  was  handsome  and  attractive,  well 
received  in  society,  and  a  favorite  with  his  literary  friends. 
Before  this,  however,  he  had  spent  two  years  in  traveling 
in  America,  including  a  winter  in  the  backwoods  of  Can- 
ada ;  and  then  two  years  more  in  Switzerland,  Italy,  and 
other  Continental  countries.  In  1842  he  was  persuaded  to 
go  to  New  Zealand  by  his  cousin,  William  Young,  whose 
father  was  a  large  land  owner  there,  in  connection  with  the 
New  Zealand  Company.  In  May,  1842,  he  went  out  to 
that  colony  among  the  earliest  settlers.  It  was  immediately 


432  Waring. 

after  his  departure  that  Browning  wrote  his  Waring, 
which  describes  his  friend  very  accurately,  and  the  circum- 
stances of  his  sudden  absence  from  London.  On  arriving 
in  New  Zealand,  Domett  found  that  his  cousin  had  just 
been  drowned.  He  settled  in  the  county  of  Wairoa,  on  the 
North  Island.  In  The  Guardian  Angel  Browning  ad- 
dressed him :  — 

"  Where  are  you,  dear  old  friend  ? 
How  rolls  the  Wairo  at  your  world's  far  end  ?  " 

Soon  after  his  arrival  Domett  was  made  a  magistrate 
with  a  salary  of  £700  a  year.  Before  leaving  England 
Domett  was  permanently  lamed  by  an  accident  to  one  of 
his  legs,  which  saved  his  life  soon  after  he  reached  the 
colony,  for  it  prevented  his  accepting  the  invitation  of  some 
treacherous  native  chiefs  to  a  banquet  at  which  all  the  Eng- 
lish guests  were  killed.  In  his  Narrative  of  the  Wairou 
Massacre,  1843,  he  described  this  event. 

In  1848  he  was  made  the  Colonial  Secretary  for  the 
southern  part  of  the  North  Island ;  and  in  1851  he  was 
also  appointed  the  Civil  Secretary  for  the  whole  of  New 
Zealand,  holding  both  offices  until  the  introduction  of  the 
new  constitution,  in  1853.  Having  resigned  these  offices, 
he  accepted  one  of  more  work  and  less  remuneration,  as 
Commissioner  of  Crown  Lands,  and  Resident  Magistrate 
at  Hawke's  Bay  ;  and  of  this  district  he  had  virtually  the 
sole  official  management.  In  1859  he  represented  the  town 
of  Nelson  in  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  he  was  re- 
elected  the  following  year. 

In  1862,  at  a  critical  moment  in  the  affairs  of  New 
Zealand,  Domett  was  called  upon  to  form  a  new  govern- 
ment, which  he  successfully  accomplished,  becoming  the 
Prime  Minister.  William  Gisborne,  who  was  a  member  of 
the  New  Zealand  House  of  Representatives,  and  a  Minis- 
ter, in  his  New  Zealand  Rulers  and  Statesmen,  published 
in  London  in  1886,  says  of  the  poet :  "  Mr.  Domett  is  a 
man  of  large  mind,  of  intellect  highly  cultivated,  and  of 
great  literary  accomplishments.  His  prose  writings,  con- 
tained in  leading  newspaper  articles  known  to  come  from 
his  pen,  and  in  public  documents,  are  remarkably  well 
written,  and  convey  clear  thoughts  and  close  argument  in 


Waring.  433 

vigorous  language.  His  poetry  is  of  a  high  order.  In 
fact,  he  is  more  a  poet  than  a  politician.  When  I  say 
that  he  is  more  a  poet  than  a  political!,  I  do  not  mean  to 
convey  the  idea  that  his  poetic  qualities  incapacitated  him  as 
a  public  man.  Far  from  it.  He  abounded  in  imaginative 
and  creative  power,  in  tender  sensibility,  in  fine  taste,  in 
great  aims,  and  in  affluence  of  expression.  But  these 
qualities  are  not  repugnant  to  public  capacity.  What  Mr. 
Domett  failed  in  was  as  a  politician  in  the  parliamentary 
sense,  namely,  as  a  party  man,  and  as  a  minister  under  re- 
sponsible government.  He  was  a  law-worshiper,  and  ad- 
mired splendid  autocracy.  The  seamy  side  of  political  life, 
as  seen  in  the  parliamentary  system,  was  not  congenial  to 
his  taste,  and  he  was  not  fit  to  work  out  what  he  regarded 
as  a  lower  level  of  public  service.  As  a  public  man,  how- 
ever, apart  from  a  politician  in  the  foregoing  sense,  Mr. 
Domett  was,  although  a  poet,  greatly  distinguished.  Left 
as  it  were  to  himself,  he  did  great  and  good  work.  The 
petition  which  he  wrote  in  1845  to  Parliament  for  the  re- 
call of  Governor  Fitzroy  was  a  most  masterly  document. 
Mr.  Charles  Buller  described  it  as  a  petition  drawn  with 
singular  ability  and  industry,  and  giving  a  sound  and  wise 
view  of  the  past  history  and  actual  condition  of  the  colony. 
In  1850  Mr.  Domett  compiled  a  classification  of  the  laws 
of  New  Zealand,  —  a  standard  and  most  valuable  work.  As 
chief  government  officer  in  the  new  district  of  Hawke's 
Bay,  1854-56,  left  without  instructions,  and  acting  on  his 
own  responsibility,  he  did  admirable  service  in  his  official 
capacity  in  maintaining  the  peace,  and  administering  the 
public  lands  of  the  district,  and  in  generally  promoting  the 
welfare  of  the  community  of  both  races.  At  Nelson,  as 
Commissioner  of  Crown  Lands,  he  effected  valuable  re- 
forms in  the  Land  and  Survey  offices.  As  Prime  Minister 
of  the  colony  in  1863,  he  devised  and  embodied,  alone  and 
unassisted,  as  the  document  itself  shows  in  a  valuable 
memorandum,  a  large  scheme  for  the  settlement  and  self- 
defense  of  New  Zealand.  This  scheme,  owing  to  dissen- 
sions in  the  Ministry,  and  other  causes,  was  never  carried 
into  effect.  Its  statesmanlike  character  is,  I  think,  unim- 
peachable. As  Secretary  for  Crown  Lands  of  the  colony 
from  1864  to  1871,  Mr.  Domett  showed  great  capacity  for 


434  Waring. 

the  fulfillment  of  very  difficult  duties.  In  1870,  when  he 
held  a  seat  in  the  Legislative  Council,  he  was  specially  ex- 
cepted,  during  his  tenure  of  the  office  of  Secretary  for 
Crown  Lands,  from  the  law  of-  Parliamentary  disqualifica- 
tion. This  was  done  for  the  avowed  reason  that,  as  Chair- 
man of  the  Joint  Committee  on  Waste  Lands,  his  assist- 
ance was  so  valuable.  Mr.  Domett  was  also  for  many  years 
the  mainstay  of  the  General  Assembly  Library.  He  was, 
it  may  be  said,  the  father  of  that  institution,  and  it  is 
mainly  owing  to  his  love  of  literature,  and  to  his  great 
ability  in  the  organization  and  classification  of  a  library, 
that  the  success  of  the  institution,  with  comparative  small 
means,  was  so  marked  at  the  date  of  his  departure  from  the 
colony  in  1871.  Mr.  Domett  was  not  a  character  which 
those  who  run  can  read.  His  are  not  the  qualities  which  at 
once  attract  admiration  and  fascinate  attention.  He  does 
not  put  his  best  wares  in  his  shop  windows.  Only  those 
who  penetrate  the  inner  chambers  of  his  mind  can  see  its 
great  powers,  its  wealth  of  information,  and  find  themselves 
in  the  presence  of  genius.  Fluent  in  writing,  he  is  embar- 
rassed in  speech,  and  his  ability  to  give  full  utterance  to 
what  he  strongly  feels  leads  to  the  impression  that  he  is 
somewhat  dictatorial  and  irritable,  though,  in  fact,  beneath 
the  surface  there  is  depth  of  gentleness  and  good  nature. 
Mr.  Domett  was  made  a  Companion  of  the  Order  of  St. 
Michael  and  St.  George  in  1880." 

In  1871,  Domett  returned  to  London,  and  took  up  his 
residence  at  Phillimore  Terrace,  Kensington ;  and  after- 
wards at  St.  Charles's  Square,  North  Kensington.  He  had 
married  a  handsome  English  lady  while  yet  a  resident  in 
New  Zealand.  He  saw  much  of  Browning ;  he  became  an 
interested  member  of  the  Browning  Society,  and  one  of  its 
vice-presidents.  "  His  grand  white  head,"  says  Mr.  F.  J. 
Furnivall,  "  was  to  be  seen  at  all  the  Society's  performances 
and  at  several  of  its  meetings.  He.  naturally  preferred 
Mr.  Browning's  early  works  to  the  later  ones.  He  could 
not  be  persuaded  to  write  any  account  of  his  early  London 
days.  Mr.  Domett  produced  with  pride  his  sea-stained 
copy  of  Browning's  Sells  and  Pomegranates.  A  sterling, 
manly,  independent  nature  was  Alfred  Domett's.  He  im- 
pressed every  one  with  whom  he  came  in  contact,  and  is 
deeply  regretted  by  his  remaining  friends." 


Waring.  435 

In  1872  Domett  published  in  London  his  JRanolf  and 
Amohia,  a  South-Sea  Day  Dream,  a  poem  descriptive  of 
New  Zealand,  its  scenery,  and  the  legends  and  habits  of  the 
Maori  inhabitants.  This  poem  was  afterwards  revised,  en- 
larged, and  published  in  two  volumes.  In  1877  appeared 
a  volume  of  his  short  poems,  including  those  published  be- 
fore he  went  to  New  Zealand,  under  the  title  of  Flotsam 
and  Jetsam,  Rhymes  Old  and  New.  Stedman  speaks  of 
the  promise  of  his  early  poems,  and  of  the  brilliant  future 
they  indicated.  He  describes  his  Jtanolf  and  Amohia  as 
"  a  poem  justly  praised  by  Browning  for  varied  beauty  and 
power,  but  charged  with  the  diffuseness,  transcendentalism, 
defects  of  art  and  action,  that  were  current  among  Domett's 
radical  brethren  so  many  years  ago."  In  this  South  Sea 
poem  Domett  gives  the  following  characterization  of  Brown- 
ing as  a  poet :  — 

"  Strange  melodies 

That  lustrous  Song-Child  languished  to  impart, 
Breathing  his  boundless  Love  through  boundless  Art  — 
Impassioned  Seraph,  from  his  mint  of  gold 
By  our  full-handed  Master-Maker  flung ; 
By  him,  whose  lays,  like  eagles,  still  upwheeling 
To  that  shy  Empyrean  of  high  feeling, 
Float  steadfast  in  the  luminous  fold  on  fold 
Of  wonder-cloud  around  its  sun-depths  rolled. 
Whether  he  paint,  all  patience  and  pure  snow, 
Pompilia's  fluttering  innocence  unsoiled ;  — 
In  verse,  though  fresh  as  dew,  one  lava  flow 
In  fervor  —  with  rich  Titian-dyes  aglow  — 
Paint  Paracelsus  to  grand  frenzy  stung, 
Quixotic  dreams  and  fiery  quackeries  foiled ;  — 
Or —  of  Sordello's  delicate  Spirit  unstrung 
For  action,  in  its  vast  Ideal's  glare 
Blasting  the  Real  to  its  own  dumb  despair,  — 
On  that  Venetian  water-lapped  stair-flight, 
In  words  condensed  to  diamond,  indite 
A  lay  dark  —  splendid  as  star-spangled  Night :  — 
Still  —  though  the  pulses  of  the  world-wide  throng 
He  wields,  with  racy  life-blood  beat  so  strong  — 
Subtlest  Assertor  of  the  Soul  in  song  !  " 

In  his  Living  Authors  of  England  Thomas  Powell  de- 
scribes the  event  which  gave  origin  to  the  writing  of  War- 
ing, the  "  young  author  "  mentioned  being  himself :  "  We 
have  a  vivid  recollection  of  the  last  time  we  saw  him.  It 
was  at  an  evening  party,  a  few  days  before  he  last  sailed 


436  White  Witchcraft. 

from  England  ;  his  intimate  friend,  Mr.  Browning,  was  also 
present.  It  happened  that  the  latter  was  introduced  that 
evening,  for  the  first  time,  to  a  young  author  who  had  just 
then  appeared  in  the  literary  world.  This,  consequently, 
prevented  the  two  friends  from  conversation,  and  they 
parted  from  each  other  without  the  slightest  idea,  on  Mr. 
Browning's  part,  that  he  was  seeing  his  old  friend  Domett 
for  the  last  time.  Some  days  after,  when  he  found  that 
Domett  had  sailed,  he  expressed  in  strong  terms,  to  the 
writer  of  this  sketch,  the  self-reproach  he  felt  at  having 
preferred  the  conversation  of  a  stranger  to  that  of  his  old 
associate." 

The  authorities  for  the  biography  of  Domett  are  Ste- 
phen's Dictionary  of  National  Biography ;  Men  of  the 
Time,  twelfth  edition  ;  Gisborne's  New  Zealand  Rulers  and 
Statesmen  ;  Powell's  Living  Authors  of  England,  which 
contains  several  selections  from  Domett's  eai'ly  poetry  ;  and 
The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  number  seven,  2  :  223*. 
Gisborne's  book  contains  a  portrait.  Stedman's  Victorian 
Poets  gives  a  brief  critical  estimate  of  Domett's  poetry. 

See  The  Browning  Society's  Papers,  1  :  107*,  and  Net- 
tleship's  Essays  and  Thoughts. 

When  I  vexed  you  and  you  chid  me.  The  first 
line  of  the  seventh  lyric  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

Which  ?    Asolando,  1889. 

White  Witchcraft.     Asolando,  1889. 

In  this  poem  there  is  probably  some  reminiscence  of  the 
fifth  and  seventeenth  epodes  of  Horace,  which  are  addressed 
to  Canidia,  the  name  which  Horace  gave  to  the  sorceress 
Gratidia.  These  odes  describe  the  charms  used  by  some  of 
the  women  of  Rome ;  and  they  represent  Canidia  as  a  crea- 
ture devoted  to  the  vilest  arts.  Nothing  but  the  name 
Canidia  is  drawn  from  Horace  ;  and  a  much  later  time  gives 
the  other  suggestions  of  the  poem. 

There  were  three  kinds  of  witches,  —  the  black,  the  gray, 
and  the  white.  The  black  witches  were  wholly  evil,  and 
were  powerful  to  injure  men.  The  white  had  the  power  to 
help,  but  not  to  hurt.  According  to  Viktor  Rydberg,  in  his 
Magic  of  the  Middle  Ages,  "  only  among  nations  holding 
dualistic  views  do  we  meet  with  magic  in  two  forms :  with 
the  priests,. a  white  and  a  black,  —  the  former  as  a  good 


White  Witchcraft.  437 

gift  of  Ormuzd,  the  latter  as  the  evil  gift  of  Ahriman ; 
with  the  Christians  of  the  Middle  Ages,  a  celestial  magic 
and  a  diabolical,  —  the  former  a  privilege  of  the  church 
and  conferred  by  God  as  a  weapon  to  aid  in  the  conquest 
of  Satan ;  the  latter  an  infernal  art  to  further  unbelief  and 
wickedness." 

The  writer  of  a  Short  Discoverie  of  Unobserved  Dangers, 
published  in  1612,  said  of  white  witchcraft :  "  The  mention 
of  witchecraft  doth  now  occasion  the  remembrance  of  a  sort 
of  practitioners  whom  our  custom  and  country  doth  call  wise 
men  and  women,  reputed  a  kind  of  good  and  honest  witches 
or  wizards,  who,  by  good  words,  by  hallowed  herbs  and 
salves,  and  other  superstitious  ceremonies,  promise  to  allay 
and  calm  devils,  practices  of  other  witches,  and  the  forces 
of  many  diseases." 

Cotter,  in  his  Tryall  of  Witchcraft,  says  :  "  This  kind  is 
not  obscure  at  this  day,  swarming  in  this  kingdom,  whereof 
no  man  can  be  ignorant  who  lusteth  to  observe  the  uncon- 
trouled  liberty  and  licence  of  open  and  ordinary  resort  in 
all  places  unto  wise  men  and  wise  women,  so  vulgarly 
termed  for  their  reputed  knowledge  concerning  diseased 
persons  as  are  supposed  to  be  bewitched." 

Thomas  Cooper,  in  his  Mystery  of  Witchcraft,  1617,  said 
that  there  are  good  witches  as  well  as  bad  ones,  that  the 
good  witches  are  called  the  unbinding  ones,  because  they 
undo  what  the  bad  ones  do.  Burton,  in  his  Anatomy  of 
Melancholy,  said  "  they  can  effect  such  cures ;  the  main 
question  is  whether  it  be  lawful  in  a  desperate  case  to  crave 
their  help  or  ask  a  wizard's  advice.  'T  is  a  common  prac- 
tice of  some  men  to  go  first  to  a  witch  and  then  to  a  physi- 
cian. If  one  cannot  help  the  other  shall." 

The  other  allusion  will  be  explained  by  a  reference  to  the 
Zoological  Mythology  of  Angelo  de  Gubernatis.  In  many 
places  in  Europe  the  toad  is  respected  and  venerated  as  a 
sacred  animal,  because  it  is  considered  as  a  diabolical  form 
imposed  by  force  upon  a  divine  or  princely  being.  A 
Tuscan  song  records  the  transformation  of  a  beautiful 
maiden  into  a  toad ;  and  various  legends  describe  the 
magical  process  of  changing  a  beautiful  youth  or  maiden 
into  the  form  of  the  same  creature.  The  toad's-stone  or 
bufonite  is  widely  regarded  as  a  means  of  keeping  its  wearer 


438  Why  I  am  a  Liberal.  —  Xanthus. 

from  being  poisoned  ;  and  it  is  supposed  to  be  taken  out  of 
a  toad's  head.  "  Out  of  the  toad,  the  dark  animal  of  the 
night,  the  gloom  or  winter,  the  solar  peai-1  comes ;  thus 
popular  German  stories  regard  the  Schild-krote,  or  toad  with 
the  shield,  as  sacred,  on  account  of  the  pearl  supposed  to  be 
contained  in  its  head." 

Why  I  am  a  Liberal.  In  1885  Cassell  &  Co., 
London,  published  a  volume  edited  by  Andrew  Reid,  in 
which  a  number  of  leaders  of  English  thought  answered  the 
question,  "  Why  I  am  a  Liberal  ?  "  To  this  volume  Brown- 
ing contributed  a  poem,  reprinted  in  the  Riverside  edition 
of  his  poems,  1889,  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  volume. 

WHY  I  AM  A  LIBERAL. 

"Why  ?  "     Because  all  I  haply  can  and  do, 
All  that  I  am  now,  all  I  hope  to  be,  — 
Whence  comes  it  save  from  fortune  setting  free 

Body  and  soul  the  purpose  to  pursue, 

God  traced  for  both  ?     If  fetters,  not  a  few, 
Of  prejudice,  convention,  fall  from  me, 
These  shall  I  bid  men  —  each  in  his  degree 

Also  God-guided  —  bear,  and  gayly,  too  ? 

But  little  do  or  can  the  best  of  us : 

That  little  is  achieved  through  Liberty. 

Who,  then,  dares  hold,  emancipated  thus, 
His  fellow  shall  continue  bound  ?     Not  I, 

Who  live,  love,  labor  freely,  nor  discuss 

A  brother's  right  to  freedom.     That  is  "Why." 

"Wish  no  word  unspoken.  The  first  words  of  the 
lyric  following  the  second  dialogue  or  poem  in  Ferishtah's 
Fancies. 

Woman's  Last  Word,  A.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Lyrics,  1863 ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

This  poem  has  been  set  to  music  by  Leslie  Johnson,  and 
published  by  the  London  Browning  Society.  Under  the 
title  Only  Sleep,  the  same  composer  and  publisher  have  used 
the  poem  with  another  setting. 

W"omen  and  Roses.  Men  and  Women,  1855. 
Lyrics,  1863  ;  Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Worst  of  It,  The.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

Xanthus.  One  of  the  attendants  of  St.  John  in  A 
Death  in  the  Desert. 


You  groped  your  way.  —  Youth  and  Art.    439 

You  groped  your  way  across  my  room.  The  first 
words  of  the  third  lyric  in  Ferishtah's  Fancies. 

You  '11  love  me  yet.  The  song  of  the  second  girl  in 
Plppa  Passes,  vol.  i.  p.  359,  Riverside  edition  of  Brown- 
ing's Works. 

Youth  and  Art.     Dramatis  Personce,  1864. 

See  Rolfe's  Select  Poems  for  a  hrief  interpretation. 
Rolfe  points  out  the  resemblance  of  this  poem  in  idea  to 
The  Statue  and  the  Bust. 


SUPPLEMENT. 


Cardinal  and  the  Dog,  The.  Asolando,  1889.  An 
account  of  Crescenzio  has  been  discovered  in  Moreri's  Dic- 
tionnaire  Historiqiie,  which  has  been  translated  as  follows  : 

"  Marcel  Crescentio,  Cardinal  Bishop  of  Marsico,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Naples,  was  born  in  Rome,  of  one  of  the  most 
noble  and  ancient  families.  From  his  youth  he  made  great 
progress  in  letters,  particularly  in  civil  and  canon  law.  He 
had  a  canonship  in  the  Church  of  St.  Mary  Major,  and  was 
also  given  the  office  of  the  Auditor  of  the  Rota.  Then 
Pope  Clement  VII.  named  him  for  the  bishopric  of  Mar- 
sico, and  Pope  Paul  III.  made  him  Cardinal,  June  2,  1542. 

"  Crescentio  was  Protector  of  the  Order  of  Citeaux,  per- 
petual Legate  at  Bologna,  Bishop  of  Conserans,  etc.  Julius 
III.  named  him  Legate  to  preside  at  the  Council  of  Trent, 
and  he  presided  there  at  the  eleventh,  twelfth,  thirteenth, 
fourteenth,  and  fifteenth  sessions.  The  latter  ended  in 
1552,  and  the  Cardinal  Crescentio,  who  was  ill,  remained 
in  Trent.  Rumor  said  that  his  malady  came  upon  him  in 
this  way :  After  working  almost  the  whole  of  the  night  of 
March  20  to  write  to  the  Pope,  as  he  arose  from  his  seat  he 
imagined  that  he  saw  a  dog  that  opened  its  jaws  frightfully, 
and  appeared  to  him  with  its  flaming  eyes  and  low-hanging 
ears  as  if  mad,  and  about  to  attack  him. 

"  Crescentio  called  his  servants  at  once,  and  made  them 
bring  lights,  but  the  dog  could  not  be  found.  The  Cardi- 
nal, terrified  by  this  spectre,  fell  into  a  deep  melancholy, 
and  then  immediately  into  a  sickness  which  made  him  de- 
spair of  recovery,  although  his  friends  and  physicians  as- 
sured him  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear.  This  is  the  story 
about  the  end  of  Cardinal  Crescentio,  who  died  at  Verona 
the  first  of  June,  1552.  It  could  have  been  invented  only 


442        O  Love  !  Love  !  —  One  Word  More. 

by  ill-meaning  people,  who  lacked  respect  for  the  Council. 
The  Cardinal's  body  was  carried  to  Rome." 

O  Love !    Love !     The  lyric  from  Hippolytus,  trans- 
lated for  Mahaffy's  Euripides,  is  as  follows  :  — 


O  Love  !  Love !  thou  that  from  the  eyes  diffuses* 

Yearning,  and  on  the  soul  sweet  grace  inducest,  — 

Souls  against  whom  thy  hostile  march  is  made,  — 

Never  to  me  be  manifest  in  ire, 

Nor,  out  of  time  and  tune,  my  peace  invade ! 

Since  neither  from  the  fire  — 

No,  nor  from  the  stars  —  is  launched  a  bolt  more  mighty 

Than  that  of  Aphrodite* 

Hurled  from  the  hands  of  Love,  the  boy  with  Zeus  for  sire. 


Idly,  how  idly,  by  the  Alpheian  river 

And  in  the  Pythian  shrines  of  Phoebus,  quiver 

Blood-offerings  from  the  bull,  which  Hellas  heaps  : 

While  Love  we  worship  not  —  the  Lord  of  men ! 

Worship  not  him,  the  very  key  who  keeps 

Of  Aphrodite1,  when 

She  closes  up  her  dearest  chamber-portals : 

—  Love,  when  he  conies  to  mortals, 

Wide-wasting,  through  those  deeps  of  woes  beyond  the  deep ! 

One  Word  More.  Men  and  Women,  1855.  In  The 
Academy  for  January  10, 1891,  are  printed  Mr.  W.  M.  Ros- 
setti's  explanations  of  some  of  the  allusions  in  this  poem :  — 

"  I  understand  the  allusions,  but  Browning  is  far  from 
accurate  in  them. 

"  1.  Towards  the  end  of  the  Vita  Nuova,  Dante  says 
that,  on  the  first  anniversary  of  the  death  of  Beatrice,  he 
began  drawing  an  angel,  but  was  interrupted  by  certain 
people  of  distinction,  who  entered  on  a  visit.  Browning  is 
therefore  wrong  in  intimating  that  the  angel  was  painted 
'  to  please  Beatrice.' 

"  2.  Then  Browning  says  that  the  pen  with  which  Dante 
drew  the  angel  was,  perhaps,  corroded  by  the  hot  ink  in 
which  it  had  previously  been  dipped  for  the  purpose  of  de- 
nouncing a  certain  wretch,  i.  e.  one  of  the  persons  named 
in  his  Inferno.  This  about  the  ink,  as  such,  is  Browning's 
own  figure  of  speech,  not  got  out  of  Dante. 

"3.  Then  Browning  speaks  of  Dante's  having  'his  left 


Ponte  delV  Angela,  Venice.  —  Rephan.      443 

hand  i'  the  hair  o'  the  wicked,'  etc.  This  refers  to  Inferno, 
Canto  32,  where  Dante  meets  (among  the  traitors  to  their 
country)  a  certain  Bocca  degli  Abati,  a  notorious  Florentine 
traitor,  dead  some  years  back,  and  Dante  clutches  and  tears 
at  Bocca's  hair  to  compel  him  to  name  himself,  which  Bocca 
would  much  rather  not  do. 

"  4.  Next  Browning  speaks  of  this  Bocca  as  being  a  '  live 
man.'  Here  Browning  confounds  two  separate  incidents. 
Bocca  is  not  only  damned,  but  also  dead  ;  but  further  on  — 
Canto  33  —  Dante  meets  another  man,  a  traitor  against 
his  familiar  friend.  This  traitor  is  Frate  Alberigo,  one  of 
the  Manfredi  family  of  Faenza.  This  Frate  Alberigo  was, 
though  damned,  not,  in  fact,  dead ;  he  was  still  alive,  and 
Dante  makes  it  out  that  traitors  of  this  sort  are  liable  to 
have  their  souls  sent  to  hell  before  the  death  of  their  bodies. 
A  certain  Branca  d'  Oria,  Genoese,  is  in  like  case  —  damned, 
but  not  dead. 

"5.  Browning  proceeds  to  speak  of  'the  wretch  going 
festering  through  Florence.'  This  is  a  relapse  into  his  mis- 
take, —  the  confounding  of  the  dead  Florentine  Bocca  degli 
Abati  with  the  living  (though  damned)  Faentine  and  Geno- 
ese traitors,  Frate  Alberigo  and  Branca  d'  Oria,  who  had 
nothing  to  do  with  Florence." 

Ponte  dell'  Angelo,  Venice.  Asolando,  1889.  This 
bridge  and  house  are  not  described  in  any  of  the  guide- 
books. The  story  told  is  from  the  Annales  of  Father  Bo- 
verio,  as  the  poet  says.  Moreri's  Dictionnaire  Historique 
gives  an  account  of  this  old  chronicler.  "  Zaccaria  Boverio, 
an  Italian  Capuchin  monk,  was  born  at  Saluzzo  in  1568,  and 
taught  philosophy  and  theology  in  his  Order.  He  was  a 
faithful  monk,  and  fond  of  the  retired  life  thus  afforded. 
He  occupied  himself  in  the  composition  of  various  works, 
such  as  Les  Annales  des  Capucins,  in  two  volumes  ;  De- 
monstrationes  symbolicce  verce  and  falsce  Religwnis  adver- 
sus  Atheistas  Judceas  Hereticas  ;  Censura  parvenetica  in 
Marcum-Antonium  de  Bominis,  etc.  Father  Boverio  died 
at  Genoa,  May  31,  1638,  aged  seventy  years." 

Popularity.  Men  and  Women,  1855  ;  Lyrics,  1863 ; 
Dramatic  Lyrics,  1868. 

Rephan.  Asolando,  1889.  In  a  foot-note  Browning 
says  this  poem  was  "  suggested  by  a  very  early  recollection 


444  Rephan. 

of  a  prose  story  by  the  noble  woman  and  imaginative  writer, 
Jane  Taylor,  of  Norwich."  This  is  a  slip  of  pen  or  memory 
for  "  Jane  Taylor  of  Ongar." 

Jane  Taylor  was  one  of  the  earliest  writers  of  books  for 
children,  and  especially  of  religious  books.  She  was  the 
second  sister  of  Isaac  Taylor,  the  author  of  The  Natural 
History  of  Enthusiasm,  The  Physical  Theory  of  Another 
Life,  The  Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry,  and  other  works.  She 
was  born  in  1783.  The  greater  part  of  her  life  was  spent  at 
Ongar,  and  with  her  sister  Ann  she  wrote  Hymns  for  In- 
fant Minds.  She  also  wrote  Display,  a  novel  ;  Essays  in 
Rhyme  on  Morals  and  Manners  ;  and  The  Contributions 
°f  Q-  Q-  Her  Twinkle,  twinkle,  little  Star,  and  My 
Mother,  are  now  the  best  known  of  her  poems.  After  her 
death  in  1824,  at  the  age  of  forty,  her  Memoirs  were 
written  by  her  brother  Isaac,  and  they  were  published  in 
connection  with  her  correspondence.  Her  complete  works, 
including  the  Memoirs,  have  been  published  in  three  vol- 
umes. 

Walter  Scott  spoke  of  Jane  Taylor  as  "  among  the  first 
women  of  her  time,"  and  Mrs.  Oliphant  has  praised  her  in 
The  Literary  History  of  England  in  the  Eighteenth  Cen- 
tury. The  best  articles  about  Jane  Taylor  are  in  Black- 
wood's  Magazine,  139  :  23,  by  Mrs.  L.  B.  Walford ;  and 
another  in  The  Living  Age,  96  :  323. 

Mrs.  Oliphant  mentions  the  fact  that  she  early  read,  with 
great  appreciation,  a  prose  sketch  called  How  it  Strikes  a 
Stranger,  contained  in  Jane  Taylor's  The  Contributions  of 
Q.  Q.,  the  first  volume.  Curiously,  this  is  the  prose  story 
which  suggested  to  Browning  the  present  poem.  The  story 
is  an  attempt  to  show  how  a  rational  being  would  regard 
death,  if  it  were  suddenly  brought  to  his  knowledge  in  con- 
nection with  the  promise  of  immortality.  Jane  Taylor  pre- 
sents the  conventional  view  of  the  subject.  As  indicating 
how  a  mere  hint  or  an  indistinct  recollection  was  used  by 
Browning,  this  story  may  be  read  with  much  profit :  — 


HOW  IT  STRIKES  A  STRANGER. 

In  a  remote  period  of  antiquity,  when  the  supernatural  and  the 
marvelous  obtained  a  readier  credence  than  now,  it  was  fahled  that  a 


Rephan.  445 

stranger  of  extraordinary  appearance  was  observed  pacing  the  streets 
of  one  of  the  magnificent  cities  of  the  East,  remarking  with  an  eye 
of  intelligent  curiosity  every  surrounding  object.  Several  individ- 
uals, gathering  around  him,  questioned  him  concerning  his  country 
and  his  business ;  but  they  presently  perceived  that  he  was  unac- 
quainted with  their  language,  and  he  soon  discovered  himself  to  be 
equally  ignorant  of  the  most  common  usages  of  society.  .  .  .  After  a 
time,  it  is  said  that  the  mysterious  stranger  accepted  the  hospitalities 
of  one  of  the  nobles  of  the  city,  under  whose  roof  he  applied  himself 
with  great  diligence  to  the  acquirement  of  the  language.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  raising  his  eyes  to  the  starry  firmament,  he  fixed  them 
with  an  expressive  gaze  on  the  beautiful  evening  star  which  was  just 
sinking  behind  a  dark  grove  that  surrounded  one  of  the  principal 
temples  of  the  city.  "  Marvel  not,"  said  he  to  his  host,  "  that  I  am 
wont  to  gaze  with  fond  affection  on  yon  silvery  star.  That  was  my 
home ;  yes,  I  was  lately  an  inhabitant  of  that  tranquil  planet,  from 
whence  a  vain  curiosity  has  tempted  me  to  wander."  .  .  . 

The  emotion  which  the  stranger  had  betrayed,  when  he  received  the 
first  idea  of  death,  was  yet  slight  in  comparison  with  that  which  he 
experienced  as  soon  as  he  gathered  from  the  discourses  of  the  priests 
some  notion  of  immortality,  and  of  the  alternative  of  happiness  or 
misery  in  a  future  state.  But  this  agony  of  mind  was  exchanged  for 
transport  when  he  learned  that,  by  the  performance  of  certain  condi- 
tions before  death,  the  state  of  happiness  mig'ht  be  secured ;  his 
eagerness  to  learn  the  nature  of  these  terms  excited  the  surprise  and 
even  the  contempt  of  his  sacred  teachers.  They  advised  him  to  re- 
main satisfied  for  the  present  with  the  instructions  he  had  received, 
and  to  defer  the  remainder  of  the  discussion  till  the  morrow. 

"  How  !"  exclaimed  the  novice  ;  "  say  you  not  that  death  may  come 
at  any  hour  ?  May  it  not,  then,  come  this  hour  ?  and  what  if  it  should 
come  before  I  have  performed  these  conditions  !  Oh  !  withhold  not 
this  excellent  knowledge  from  me  a  single  moment !  " 

The  priests,  suppressing  a  smile  at  his  simplicity,  then  proceeded  to 
explain  their  theology  to  their  attentive  auditor :  but  who  shall  de- 
scribe the  ecstasy  of  his  happiness  when  he  was  given  to  understand 
that  the  required  conditions  were,  generally,  of  easy  and  pleasant 
performance ;  and  that  the  occasional  difficulties  or  inconveniences 
which  might  attend  them  would  entirely  cease  with  the  short  term  of 
his  earthly  existence.  "If,  then,  I  understand  you  rightly,"  said  he 
to  his  instructors,  "this  event  which  you  call  death,  and  which  seems 
in  itself  strangely  terrible,  is  most  desirable  and  blissful.  What  a 
favor  is  this  which  is  granted  to  me,  in  being  sent  to  inhabit  a  pla- 
net in  which  I  can  die  !  "  The  priests  again  exchanged  smiles  with 
each  other ;  but  their  ridicule  was  wholly  lost  upon  the  enraptured 
stranger. 

When  the  first  transports  of  his  emotion  had  subsided,  he  began  to 
reflect  with  sore  uneasiness  on  the  time  he  had  already  lost  since  his 
arrival. 

"  Alas,  what  have  I  been  doing  !"  exclaimed  he.  "  This  gold  which 
I  have  been  collecting,  —  tell  me,  reverend  priests,  will  it  avail  me 
anything  when  the  thirty  or  forty  years  are  expired  which,  you  say,  I 
may  possibly  sojourn  in  your  planet  ?  " 


446  Two  Poets  of  Croisic. 

"  Nay,"  replied  the  priests,  "  but  verily  you  will  find  it  of  excellent 
use  so  long  as  you  remain  in  it." 

''  A  very  little  of  it  shall  suffice  me,"  replied  he  ;  "  for  consider  ho-v 
soon  this  period  will  be  past :  -what  avails  it  what  my  condition  may 
be  for  so  short  a  season  ?  I  -will  betake  myself,  from  this  hour,  to  the 
grand  concerns  of  which  you  have  charitably  informed  me." 

Accordingly,  from  that  period,  continues  the  legend,  the  stranger 
devoted  himself  to  the  performance  of  those  conditions  on  which,  he 
•was  told,  his  future  -welfare  depended ;  but  in  so  doing,  he  had  an 
opposition  to  encounter  •wholly  unexpected,  and  for  which  he  was 
even  at  a  loss  to  account.  By  thus  devoting  his  chief  attention  to 
his  chief  interests,  he  excited  the  surprise,  the  contempt,  and  even 
the  enmity  of  most  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city ;  and  they  rarely 
mentioned  him  but  with  a  term  of  reproach,  which  has  been  vari- 
ously rendered  in  all  the  modern  languages. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  stranger's  surprise  at  this  circumstance,  as 
well  as  that  of  his  fellow-citizens  appearing,  generally,  so  extremely 
indifferent  as  they  did  to  their  own  interests.  That  they  should  have 
so  little  prudence  and  forethought  as  to  provide  only  for  their  neces- 
sities and  pleasures  for  that  short  part  of  their  existence  in  which  they 
were  to  remain  in  this  planet,  he  could  consider  only  as  the  effect  of 
disordered  intellect ;  so  that  he  even  returned  their  incivilities  to  him- 
self with  affectionate  expostulation,  accompanied  by  lively  emotions 
of  compassion  and  amazement. 

If  ever  he  was  tempted  for  a  moment  to  violate  any  of  the  con- 
ditions of  his  future  happiness,  he  bewailed  his  own  madness  with 
agonizing  emotions  ;  and  to  all  the  invitations  he  received  from  others 
to  do  anything  inconsistent  with  his  real  interests,  he  had  but  one  an- 
swer. "  Oh,"  he  would  say,  "  I  am  to  die !  I  am  to  die  !  " 

Two  Poets  of  Croisic,  The.  The  story  contained  in 
the  Epilogue,  as  the  poet  suggests,  is  from  the  Greek,  where 
it  is  to  be  found  in  both  verse  and  prose.  It  appears  twice 
in  the  Greek  Anthology,  once  by  an  unknown  poet,  and 
once  in  an  epigram  by  Paulus  Silentiarius.  The  first  is  in 
the  Palatine  Anthology,  IX.  584,  where  the  opponent  is 
called  Spartis ;  the  second  in  VI.  54.  It  will  be  found  in 
J.  W.  Mackail's  Select  Epigrams  from  Greek  Anthology, 
ii.  14,  p.  127.  It  is  given  there  in  Greek,  also  in  a  prose 
translation,  as  follows  :  — 

"  Eunomus  the  Locrian  hangs  up  this  brazen  grasshopper 
to  the  Lycarean  god,  a  memorial  of  the  contest  for  the 
crown.  The  strife  was  of  the  lyre,  and  Parthis  stood  up 
against  me  ;  but  when  the  Locrian  shell  sounded  under  the 
plectrum,  a  lyre-string  rang  and  snapped  jarringly  ;  but  ere 
ever  the  tune  halted  in  its  fair  harmonies,  a  delicate-trilling 
grasshopper  seated  itself  on  the  lyre  and  took  up  the  note 


Two  Poets  oj  Craisic.  447 

of  the  last  string,  and  turned  the  rustic  sound  that  till  then 
was  vocal  in  the  groves  to  the  strain  of  our  touch  upon  the 
lyre ;  and  therefore,  blessed  son  of  Leto,  he  does  honor  to 
thy  grasshopper,  seating  the  singer  in  brass  upon  his  harp." 

This  story  probably  first  appeared  in  Timaeus,  from 
whence  it  is  quoted  by  Strabo  in  his  Geography,  VII.  10. 
It  is  also  given  by  the  Emperor  Julian,  Epistle  41 ;  and  by 
Clemens  Alexandrinus.  Strabo's  account  is  in  Bohn's  trans- 
lation, Vol.  I.  p.  390,  as  follows  :  — 

"  There  is  a  certain  singular  circumstance  respecting 
grasshoppers,  worthy  of  note.  The  river  Alece  divides 
Rhegium  from  Locris,  flowing  through  a  deep  ravine ;  those 
which  are  in  the  territory  of  the  Locrians  sing,  but  those  on 
the  other  side  are  silent ;  and  it  is  thought  probable  that 
this  is  caused  by  the  region  being  woody,  and  their  mem- 
branes, being  softened  by  dew,  do  not  produce  sound ;  but 
those  on  the  Locrian  side,  being  sunned,  are  dry  and  horny, 
so  that  the  sound  is  easily  produced  by  them.  The  statue 
of  Eunomus  the  harper  having  a  grasshopper  seated  on  his 
harp  is  shown  at  Locri.  Timaeus  says,  that  this  Eunomus 
was  once  contending  at  the  Pythian  games  and  disputed 
with  Aristo  of  Rhegium  for  the  prize,  and  that  Aristo  de- 
clared that  the  people  of  Delphi  ought  to  take  part  .with 
him,  because  his  ancestors  were  consecrated  to  that  God, 
and  sent  out  to  found  the  colony ;  but  Eunomus  said  that 
they  could  have  no  claim  to  contend  for  melody  with  any 
one,  because  that  among  them  even  the  grasshoppers,  who 
are  the  most  gifted  of  all  creatures,  were  mute.  Neverthe- 
less, Aristo  was  applauded,  and  had  hopes  of  obtaining  the 
victory,  but  Eunomus  was  declared  victorious,  and  dedicated 
the  said  statue  in  his  country,  because  that  at  the  contest, 
one  of  the  chords  of  his  harp  having  broken,  a  grasshopper, 
taking  his  stand  on  it,  supplied  the  sound." 


INDEX. 


Abd-«l-Kadr,  415. 

Abt  Vogler,  1. 

Adam  and  Eve,  5. 

Adelaide,  370,  386,  392. 

Admetus,  17,  44. 

^Eschylus,  6,  16. 

Agamemnon,  6,  16. 

Agathon,  32. 

Agricola,  Johannes,  186. 

Agrippa,  Cornelius,  248. 

Alcestis,  16,  26,  42,  44. 

Ancona,  161. 

Andrea  del  Sarto,  8,  197. 

Angelo,  Michel,  9,  14,  48,  217. 

Apollo,  16,  220. 

Antinomians,  187. 

Arezzo,  344. 

Aristophanes,  19. 

Aristotle,  162. 

Arnold  of  Brescia,  279. 

Artemis,  36. 

Artemisia  Genteleschi,  48. 

Asolando,  38. 

Asolo,  39,  173,  299. 

Athens,  19,  21,  43,  289. 

Avison,  Charles,  77. 

Augustus,  170. 

Badman,  Mr.,  213. 

Baldinucci,  13,  47,  139,  151. 

Balatistion,  19,  24,  37,  42,  127. 

Balkis,  365. 

Barberini,  47,  229,  347. 

Bartoli,  Daniele,  111,  169. 

Bates,  Arlo,  81. 

Beatrice,  215,  232. 

Bedouin  horseman,  209. 

Bells  and  Pomegranates,  50,  62. 

Bembo,  Pietro,  40. 

Ben  Karshook's  Wisdom,  52. 

Bidpai,  Fables  of,  128. 

Bishop  Blougram's  Apology,  56. 

Bishop  orders  his  Tomb,  The,  56. 

Blind  Man  to  the  Maiden,  The,  60. 


Blacas,  374,  377,  380.     . 
Blougram,  Bishop,  56. 
Boccaccio,  233. 
Boehme,  Jacob,  248,  422. 
Bourg-Molay,  Jacques  du,  164. 
Brazen  head,  351. 
Brittany,  165,  425. 
Brown,  Rawdon,  363. 
Browning,  biography,  115, 125, 162, 

246,  280. 
Browning,  letters,  37,  76,  128,  131, 

160,  196,  226,  282,  287,  361,  369, 

403. 
Browning,  Mrs.,  68,  207,  211,  218, 

223,  227,  304,  306,  423. 
Browning,    plays    acted,   60,   101, 

171,  405. 
Browning,  prefaces,  51,  119,  247, 

285,  299,  359.  407. 
Browning,  religion,  4,  55,  261,  306, 

313. 

Browning,  Robert,  senior,  115. 
Browning,  spelling  of  Greek  words, 

37. 
Browning,  theory  of  poetry,  168, 

234. 

Browning,  translation,  7,  37. 
Browning,  unpublished  poems,  53, 

60,  143,  159,  163,  195,  211,  363, 

367,  402,  420,  421,  438. 
Bunyan,  213. 
Byron,  134,  204. 

Caponsacchi,  162,  330,  344. 

Cardinal  and  the  Dog,  The,  72, 441. 

Carlisle,  Lady,  406,  412. 

Cavour,  17. 

Cenciaji,  73. 

Cenci,  Beatrice,  74. 

Cerinthus,  114. 

Chadwick,  J.  W.,  79,  337. 

Charles  Emanuel,  189. 

Childe  Roland,  78. 

Christ,  84,  307. 


Index. 


449 


Christina  of  Spain,  105. 

Christina  of  Sweden,  105,  341. 

Cicero,  32,  59,  413. 

Clive,  Robert,  99. 

Colombe,  100. 

Comedy,  20,  27. 

Constance.lOS. 

Cooke,  J.  E.,  80. 

Corelli,  347. 

Cornaro,  Caterina,  39,  173,  299. 

Crescentio,  Cardinal,  72,  291,  441. 

Croisic,  165,  425. 

Dante,  216,  232,  307,  369,  372,  381, 

442. 

David,  Song  to,  87. 
De  Lassay,  Marquis,  112. 
De  Ros,  Lord,  174. 
Desforges-Maillard,  Paul,  428. 
Dickens,  65,  172,  348. 
Doctor  and  Death,  The,  116. 
Dodington,  George  Bubb,  154. 
Domett,  Alfred,  161,  431. 
Donald,  116. 
Don  Juan,  132,  136. 
Dowden,  Edward,  71,  168. 
Dramatic  poet,  42. 
Druses,  320. 
Duncan,  117. 

Eagle,  The,  122, 128. 

Easter-day,  84. 

Eccelin  of  Romano,  370,  384,  387. 

Echetlos,  124. 

Eden,  Richard,  69. 

Electra,  24. 

Enclitic  De,  160. 

Etruria,  346,  352. 

Eumenides,  16. 

Euripides,  16,  19,  21,  23,  24,  36, 42, 

44,  442. 
Euthukles,  23, 127. 

Fable  of  the  Bees,  The,  54. 
Fables  of  Pilpay,  123,  128. 
Fano.  160. 

Faucit,  Helen,  63,  101. 
Ferishtah's  Fancies,  128. 
Fifine,  132. 
Firdusi,  130,  206. 
Fiske,  John,  72,  294. 
Fitzgerald,  Edward,  419. 
Flight  of  the  Duchess,  The,  141. 
Florence,  9,  10,  15,  143,  162,  217, 

346,  383,  402. 
Fontainebleau,  106. 
Formosus,  351. 


Forster,  John,  65,   172,   247,   281, 

407,  410. 

Founder  of  the  Feast,  The,  143. 
Fox,  W.  J.,  246,  281,  282. 
Fra  Angelicp,  149. 
Franceschini,    Count    Guido,   104, 

327. 

Francis  I.,  9,  110,  157. 
Furini,  Francis,  150. 
Fuseli,  200. 
Fust,  151. 

Gafar.  209. 
Galuppi,  416. 

Genteleschi,  Artemisia,  48. 
Gentilhomme,  Rene",  427. 
Ghent,  169. 
Ghetto,  167. 
Giotto,  148,  217,  233. 
Glove,  The,  157. 
Godwin,  William,  200. 
Goldoni,  159. 

Gosse,  Edmund,  50,  61,  100,  203, 
.  246,  280,  291,  298,  406. 
Grammarian's  Funeral,  A,  160. 
Greville  Memoirs,  175. 
Grote,  20,  290. 
Guardian  angel,  161. 
Guelf  and  Ghibelline,  382. 
G'uercino,  161. 
Gutenberg,  151.  j 

Hakem.  321. 
Hakkadosh,  182. 
Hamelin,  291. 
Hamz<5,  321. 
Handel,  77. 

Harrison,  Frederic,  7,  37. 
Hawthorne,  15,  208. 
Helen's  Tower,  163. 
Herakles,  27,  44. 
Heretic's  Tragedy,  The,  164. 
Herodotus,  289. 
nerve-  Riel,  165. 
Hillard,  Geo.  S.,  14,  166. 
Hippolytus,  36. 
Honensteil-Schwangau,  303. 
Holy-Cross  Day,  166. 
Home,  D.  D.,  207. 
Homer,  6,  16,  409. 
Hood,  Thomas,  -212. 
Horace,  170,  177. 
Howell's  Letters,  292. 
Husheng,  414. 

Ibn  Ezra,  Abraham,  248,  308. 
Inn  Album,  The,  174. 


450 


Index. 


Innocent  XII.,  338. 
Inquisition,  103,  295,  343. 
Instans  Tyrannus,  176. 
Lxion,  180. 

Jansenists,  344. 
Jerrold,  Douglas,  121. 
Jews'  sermon,  166. 
Job,  131,  310. 
Jocoseria,  185. 
John  of  Halberstadt,  422. 
Jonson,  Ben,  41. 

Komos,  29. 
Kottabos,  24,  35. 
Knights  Templars,  164. 

La  Delivrande,  318. 

La  Hogue,  166. 

Lairesse,  Gerard  de,  156. 

Landor,  52,  404. 

La  Saisiaz,  194. 

Lear,  Edgar's  song  in,  78. 

Lee,  Vernon,  173. 

Le  Croisic,  165,  425. 

Lilith,  5,  424. 

Lippi,  Fra  Lippo,  143,  221. 

London,  2,  42. 

Lorenzo  in  Lucina,  348. 

Lost  Leader,  The,  196. 

Louis  Napoleon  III.,  303,  415. 

Lucca,  171,  310. 

Lucius  Varius  Rufus,  170. 

Lucrezia,  wife  of  Lippi,  146. 

Lucrezia,  wife  of  Sarto,  9,  197. 

Luria,  52,  198. 

Luther,  424. 

Macready,  61,  64,  72,  246,  291, 404. 

Maecenas,  170,  251. 

Magic,  262,  295,  422. 

Mahaffy,  J.  P.,  7,  21,  43,  45,  216. 

Mandeville,  Bernard  de,  53. 

Malcrais,  Mile.,  428. 

Marot,  Clement,  158,  285. 

Mazzini,  177. 

Medici,  143,  402. 

Meg,  Muckle-mouth,  208. 

Melander,  185. 

Mermaid  tavern,  41. 

Middle  Ages,  58,  68, 164,  215,  250, 

295,  308,  349,  352,  354,  364,  384. 
MiU,  J.  S.,  281. 
Milsand,  M.,  279. 
Molay,  164. 
Moliere,  132. 
Molinos,  Michel  de,  339. 


Molinists,  339. 
Monaldeschi,  105. 
Morgue  in  Paris,  17. 
Mozart,  1. 

Names,  211. 

Napoleon  III.,  17,  303,  415. 
Napoleon  Buonaparte,  174,  307. 
Neo-Platonism,  250,  258. 
New  Amphion,  157. 
Normandy,  166,  316,  353. 
Nymphs,  215. 

One  Word  More,  53,  227. 
Orchestrion,  2. 
Orestes,  6,  288. 
Orpheus,  127. 
Ortolan,  305. 

Pacchia,  236,  241. 

Pacchiarotto,  236. 

Pajot,  Marianne,  112. 

Palma,  370,  380,  385. 

Pambo,  243. 

Pan,  245,  290. 

Parabasis,  31. 

Paracelsus,  18,  185,  245,  246,  407. 

Pasquin,  350. 

Pauline,  203,  280. 

Pausanias,  124,  289. 

Peter  of  Abano,  294. 

Petrarch,  18,  345. 

Phrunichas,  28. 

Pied  Piper,  72,  291. 

Pieve,  345. 

Pilpay  (Bidpai),  123, 128. 

Pignatelli,  Antonio,  238. 

Pippa,  39,  50,  298. 

Plato,  22,  312. 

Plutarch,  23,  44,  215,  290. 

Pompilia,  301,  328,  344. 

Pope's  legate  at  Trent,  291. 

Pornic,  134, 158. 

Potter's  wheel,  315. 

Powell,  Thomas,  104. 

Prout,  Father,  295. 

Pythias,  171. 

Quietism,  340,  342. 

Radford,  Ernest,  13,  200. 

Raphael,  227. 

Renaissance,  58. 

Rephan,  443. 

Romanelli,  Giovanni  Francesco,  47. 

150. 
Rome,  1,  311. 

i  ben 


Index. 


451 


Kiel,  Henre*,  165,  427. 
Ronsard,  Peter,  158,  289. 
Rosny,  353. 
Rossetti,  D.  G.,  282. 
Rossetti,  Wru.,  86. 
Rudel,  354. 
Ruskin,  58. 

St.  Ambrose,  149. 

St.  Aubin,  315,  318. 

St.  John,  114. 

St.  Praxed's,  57. 

Salinguerra,  370,  390. 

Sand,  George,  320. 

Sarto,  Andrea  del,  8, 197. 

Said,  357. 

Scott,  Walter,  116,  209. 

Schubart,  4. 

Setebos,  69. 

Shah  Nameh,  47,  72, 128, 130,  206, 

362,  414. 

Shakespeare,  41,  58,  70,  211,  405. 
Shelley,  74,  168,  203,  235. 
Signorini,  Beatrice,  47. 
Simonides,  32. 
Simorgh,  206. 
Sindokht,  47. 
Sixtus  V.,  45,  302. 
Smart,  Christopher,  85. 
Smith,  Anne  E.,  194. 
Solomon,  364. 
Sordello,  39,  279,  369,  399. 
Spiritualism,  207. 


Stratford,  408. 
Suetonius,  298. 
Swinburne,  15. 
Symonds,  J.  A.,  10,  20,  21,  24,  176. 

Taine,  161. 

Talmud,  181,  310,  365. 
Taylor,  Jane,  444. 
Tempest,  The,  70. 
Thaxter,  Levi  Lincoln,  195. 
Tod,  Old,  213. 
Tragedy,  30. 
Tripoli,  354. 

Trithemius,  Johann,  249. 
Troubadours,  354,  371,  391. 

Vasari,  9,  11,  144,  173,  217,  222, 

237. 

Venice,  40,  159,  363. 
Venus,  36,  298. 
Verstegan,  Richard,  293. 
Victor  Amadeus  II.,  188. 
Vidal,  376,  392. 
Virgil,  127,  245,  369,  372. 
Vivisection,  18,  423. 

Wanley,  Nathaniel,  243,  291. 
Weber,  2. 

Wiseman,  Cardinal,  56. 
Wollstonecraft,  Mary,  200. 
Wonders  of  the  Little  World,  The, 

243,  291. 
Wordsworth,  167,  196,  404. 


WORKS  OF 
ROBERT    BROWNING. 


POETICAL  AND  DRAMATIC  WORKS.  New  Riverside  Edi- 
tion. With  Text  from  the  latest  English  Edition,  revised  and 
rearranged  by  Mr.  BROWNING,  Portrait,  and  Indexes.  7  vols. 
crown  8vo,  gilt  top,  each  $1.75,  except  "Asolando,"  which  is 
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half  levant,  $27.00. 

1.  PAULINE.    Including  also,  Paracelsus;   Strafford;   Sordello ; 
Pippa  Passes ;  King  Victor  and  King  Charles.     With  Appendix 
containing  the  unrevised  version  of  "  Pauline "  as  it  appeared  in 
former  editions. 

2.  DRAMATIC  LYRICS.    Including  also,   The   Return  of  the 
Druses ;  A  Blot  on  the  "Scutcheon ;  Colombe's  Birthday ;  Dra- 
matic Romances ;  A  Soul's  Tragedy ;  Luria. 

3.  THE  RING  AND    THE  BOOK. 

4.  CHRISTMAS  EVE  AND  EASTER  DAY.    With  Men  and 
Women;  In  a  Balcony  ;  Dramatis  Persons;  Balaustion's  Adven- 
ture ;  Prince  Hohenstiel-Schwangau ;  Fifine  at  the  Fair. 

5.  RED  COTTON  NIGHT-CAP  COUNTRY.    Including  also, 
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Poems. 

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siaz ;  The  Two  Poets  of  Croisic ;  Dramatic  Idyls,  two  series ;  Joco- 
seria;    Ferishtah's  Fancies;    Parleyings  with  Certain  People  of 
Importance  in  their  Day;    Fragments.     Index.     Table  of  First 
Lines. 

7.  ASOLANDO:   Fancies  and  Facts.     With  Portrait. 


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LADY  GERALDINE'S  COURTSHIP.  Together  with  "  Eliza- 
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being  suppressive  or  apologetic,  or,  most  fatal  fault  of  all,  compli- 
mentary all  round.  .  .  .  Her  details,  mostly  quite  fresh  and  un- 
known, of  the  poet's  youth  are  abundant  without  being  in  the  least 
tedious;  her  account  of  his  middle  life  is  judicious  and  pleasing; 
her  sketch  of  his  triumphal  progress  at  the  end  succinct  and  well 
tempered. —  The  Saturday  Review  (London). 

ROBERT  BROWNING:  PERSONALIA.  By  EDMUND  GOSSE. 
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"  i  yy 


